Steadied
by SereneT'gai
Summary: The millionth Spock and Uhura origins. M rated in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Steadied**

 ***Spock***

He had awoken that morning to an uncharacteristic state of painful arousal. He was slightly out of breath, his heart rate increased significantly, and it took him a full two seconds to recall exactly where he was. The early light of pre-dawn was peeking through the bedroom window of his off campus apartment at his ritual rising time of 0430 hours, but his mind was erratic. He had dreamt of her. Again. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, scrubbing his eyes aggressively to rid himself of the picture behind them. This was _illogical._ Unacceptable. Inappropriate.

His subconscious visions of his teaching assistant were growing ever more sexual in nature, and he had been forced on numerous occasions to rise 30 minutes early during the last 8 months, 12 days, and 5 hours of her time under his employment in an attempt to subdue his physical manifestation of these dreams in extended meditation. Given that, he was still only able to erase the… feelings she awoke in him until she was once again in his presence.

Her understanding of his culture, peerless skill in languages and communication, and, as he was ashamed to admit even to himself, striking aesthetic attractiveness, left him breathless every day. Nyota Uhura was a most agreeable woman. A woman he should, even in sleep, be able to treat with professional respect, and he had instead dreamt of shoving her through his bedroom door, and fucking her into his mattress.

He surged up, and strode into his small, en suite bathroom to splash icy cold water on his flushed face. He had hoped the shock of this would help to calm his unease. When it did not, he showered in the sonic setting to allow himself more time to sit before his asenoi. Once clean, he changed into a soft cotton t-shirt and loose fitting meditation pants, and did just that, running through a long breathing exercise.

In frustration as opposed to an actual knowledge of whether it would be of use, rather than simply tamping down on these emotions-which had proven to be a futile endeavor of late-he allowed them to come to the forefront of his mind where they might be identified.

Firstly, he felt his near obsessive need to be close to her, and subsequently his guilt in this. He had, on five separate instances, intentionally delayed her parting from their shared office with irrelevant inquiries and conversation that he had convinced himself were not unwelcome. Her gentle tone and acquired comfort in his presence in those times had not implied the contrary. She had answered his questions regarding the illogical nature of human interactions until he had had to walk her back to her dormitory, as they had passed curfew each time. He felt his odd satisfaction at having made her laugh at a few of those awkwardly posed interrogations, and his endearment at her thoughtful expression as she had tried to address them in a way that his Vulcan unawareness would understand.

He felt his discomfort and thrill of nervous energy when he would see her hand move towards his arm to grab at his attention, and his relief and disappointment when she would remember herself and pull it back.

He felt his irritation after a short, but particularly tense call he had taken from his father while seated next to her at his desk, and his sense of a weight being lifted off his shoulders after recalling to her his separation from T'Pring. She had responded with sympathy, and had not pressed him further when he had fallen silent. He was eternally grateful for her listening ear.

Finally, he felt his acute anger when, over dinner, she had recounted a time just two weeks previously when a fellow cadet had gone too far in a practice sparring session, and had badly sprained her wrist. It had pulled at a deep, instinctual part of him that spoke to his very _katra._ Another male had put his hands on her, had caused her pain. He felt the tingle of this dark emotion rise up his spine at the thought. The cadet in question had been reprimanded, he knew, and her injury had healed rather quickly, but he felt as though he could break the wrist of the young man that had used such unnecessary force on her. She had grown accustomed to his micro-expressions, and had attempted to calm him by explaining the doctors suggestions for recovery. She had stated that they were not needed for such a minor affliction, and had even voiced her regret for having told him the tale at all. She did not like to see him so "worked up" as she had put it. If only she truly knew her own ability to make him this way.

Having sufficiently flooded the gate so to speak, he focused his mind on the source of these emotions, which he had named easily enough, and was able to compartmentalize them adequately. He allowed himself another five minutes of clear minded breathing before opening his eyes to the full light of Earth's sun. His internal clock informed him that he had been in meditation for 2 hours and 15 minutes, and as he was indeed feeling far more rested, he rose to prepare his morning tea. As it was the first day of yet another pointless mid-term break, he did not have much on his agenda today after a quick trip to the lab adjoining his office, but he supposed he would find a satisfactory amount of work in the plans for the _Enterprise_ to remain productive.

He carefully extinguished the flame in his fire pot, and with any success, his ruminations on Cadet Uhura would burn out in a similar manner.


	2. Chapter 2

***Nyota***

Her break had really started to suck. Sitting at a small console in the lab adjoining her and Commander Spock's shared office, she found herself absent minded. She was very nearly done grading his students essays from his final, but somewhere between M. Xavier's and G. Yaln's PADDS, she had opened an article on Romulan sentence structure and its similarity to Vulcan, and was splitting her attention between the two. Well, three, if she was being honest with herself.

At some point over the last 8 months, it had become impossible for her to see or hear the word Vulcan without her mind summoning some of the most unprofessional images of her admired professor she had ever thought of. Words like slanted, and pointed, all the way down to just the color _green_ had her feeling reminiscent of him, and her own roommate was green.

She had left Gaila asleep in their dorm when she went for her morning run, and had come back just over an hour later to the whole place turned upside down with a note on her bed stating that she would be spending the entirety of the break with Jim Kirk. And so she was stuck completely bored for a whole week, having dug out the motivation to spend the first few hours of it at the office completing final tasks. She had a point to make after all, considering the young Commander had had four TAs in his two year tenure, and she was not going to be one of those in the discarded pile. She had been warned, and she had taken it anyway.

With a now renewed sense of work ethic, she finished the final two PADDS swiftly, and turned back to the article on her personal screen perched atop her desk. She had her fingers on the scroll pad for all of two minutes when a fat spark shot out of the side of the monitor with a wisp of acrid smelling smoke. With a very undignified squeak, she jumped up from her chair, but kept her eyes trained on the spot to be sure it wasn't going to completely catch fire. When she was confident it would not, and felt the pounding in her heart recede, she let out a heavy, irritated sigh.

"Stupid ass, always broken, tiny screened, son of a bitch COMPUTER!"

She heard the tell tale hiss of the office door open just as she let the last word tumble out, and glanced up to the view of an exceedingly tall male figure dressed in dark slacks and an olive green long sleeved t-shirt. Her hand flew up to her mouth with a gasp when she saw one upswept brow buried in his hair line. She was shouting, out of uniform, and although he had allowed her unrestricted access to the space, had not told him she would be there.

"That was most unexpected, Cadet." His posture was as rigid as ever, even given his state of civilian dress, and with the exception of that eyebrow, he was a picture of Vulcan serenity. His voice, however, hinted at the slightest sign of amusement that she had heard from him on very rare occasions.

"Commander, I'm sorry! I finished grading those essays, and was reading an article when a huge spark came out of the side of the console, and I seriously hate this terrible—"

He held one long fingered hand up to silence her before she could spend the rest of the break in an apologetic rant that he had heard from her on a great number of occasions. Without a word, he walked to a spot just on the inside of the door, and pressed the tips of his fingers to the wall there. With a soft click, it popped open to reveal a control panel with countless blinking lights and wires. He flipped a single switch, and the hum of the aforementioned console was shut off with it, leaving a subtle quiet to fall over them that would have been a little uncomfortable had she not trusted him so very much.

She was still staring at his hand where he had placed it back on the wall to close the small latch when he snapped her out of it.

"Do you have much left to complete today, Cadet?" His voice seemed to melt into the hush of the room in a way that made her eyelids flutter before she could form an answer.

"Uh, no actually. Those essays… that was everything for now."

There. That had made sense. Right?

"Very well. If it is not keeping you from any prior engagement, perhaps we could assess the damage to your console now."

"Yeah, sure." That hadn't really been how she had pictured spending her afternoon, but she would cancel just about any prior engagement to do anything with him.

With that, he came around to stand at the side of the monitor, and pulled a chair up to it. After a moment of inspection he had asked her to grab a small tool box that was in his bottom drawer, and she handed it to him. Taking a tiny screwdriver out of it, he pried a cover off the side of the screen, and she was met with the unmistakable eye stinging smell of burnt plastic. They were going to be here a while.

In that while, she had handed him five different, equally small tools while he pulled away at the fried wires. At some point he had pulled his sleeves past his forearms, and pushed his silky black hair away from his face. She was side on to him, answering his questions on her plans for the break, why she wasn't with her parents as she was during their last scheduled break, why Gaila hadn't thought to inform her of her departure, etc. He had caught her eye about every ten seconds as she spoke, and she had felt as though she would combust under his even gaze. While she explained, she had had to expend a huge effort in not noticing their close proximity. She had never sat that close to him. Heat was pouring off his skin, and with it she could smell what she thought to be an incent, a laundry detergent, an after shave… and something underneath it all that was so decidedly _male._

She had also been awarded an up close view of his stark, alien features. She could see that his sharp eyebrow followed a bone that sloped in the same direction. His cheeks had been flushed from the heat of a short circuited monitor, and rather than the deep pink she saw in herself, it was a subtle, yet still very bright, green tint of his copper based blood. As he spoke to her she could see that the arrangement of his teeth were a bit different than a humans teeth, but she wasn't entirely sure how. They were perfectly straight and white, and considering he never truly smiled, she had never truly noticed them. The detail in his beautifully tapered ear made her heart ache like someone had punched through her chest to grab hold and squeeze it. The point curled up and slightly back around, and even having never seen any other Vulcan ears in person, she had thought that his must be superior in some way. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, alien or otherwise.

When he had finally finished, she looked up to find that they had been working for nearly four hours. It was well past 1400, and she was coming to realize how hungry she was when her stomach embarrassed her with it, which Spock's sensitive ears had picked up on.

"Cadet Uhura, it would appear that I have kept you well past your usual lunch hour. As I stated this morning, if you have no other engagements, you are quite welcome to join me. There is a vegetarian restaurant just outside of campus that I am particularly fond of, and based upon your previous habits of consumption, I believe you would find it to be palatable."

It was not the first time he had asked her to lunch. They had been working together for nearly a year, but it had been more of an understanding after the first time he asked, and that had been a simple "will you be accompanying me to the mess hall, Cadet?" It had seemed different somehow when he asked again. It was the most awkward and nerdy, flattering and charming way she had ever been asked to lunch in her life. He was regarding her almost warily, until she found herself quickly agreeing with a smile that was mirrored in his eyes in that way he did. That way that nothing about his expression actually seemed to change, and yet he looked… happy. Walking out the door of the office at his side, she belatedly wondered why he had come into their office at all.


	3. Chapter 3

***Spock***

He had not even retrieved the items he went into his office for. He had intended to grab the PADDS locked away with the design plans for the _Enterprise,_ and had instead spent 3 hours and 38 minutes reconnecting melted circuitry. He had intended to go back to his apartment to work on the design plans for the _Enterprise,_ and had instead held an old fashioned door open to a restaurant, so that a young cadet could precede him.

Standing behind her inside the doorway, he had realized, not for the first time, how different she was to him. She was taller than was the average for a human woman, her waist was perhaps only 71 centimeters in diameter. She was just as alien to him as his mother with cool skin, rounded ears and brows, and their oddly sweet smelling iron red blood. She was wearing a pair of jeans she had rolled up at the ankle and a t-shirt that had "Maintain Standard Orbit" written in swirling letters across the front. He idly imagined it would look quite like a doll's shirt if placed next to one of his own. Her hands were half his size, and it was difficult to keep from touching her fingers as she handed him tools from the box. He had not needed her to do that. He could have reached into a box to grab tools. He had not needed to repair the console at all, considering that once he filed a damage report, they would more than likely replace it entirely.

He had wished to hear her voice. He needed to be near her.

She was carrying a messenger bag that still held what he supposed to be about half his students final exams from his afternoon Advanced Phonology class. She had insisted on completing her grading of the assessments within 48 hours, and it appeared she had been successful. She was a very capable aid, and he had gone through many. They had been seated at a table near a low window as she went over with him who she believed had improved and the opposite. She had already been speaking in four languages as she discussed his students progress, and was attracting no small amount of attention when he replied in kind. He had ordered his usual, and she had asked for the same before she had even known what it was. Illogical human woman.

She told him of her home in Africa, and that she was in fact French as well on her mother's side. He had supposed that explained her comparatively light complexion, and on the two other occasions he had heard her speak French, he had picked up on a regional dialect she must have learned from a native of the place.

He told her of the red and orange mountains of his planet he would explore as a child, tricorder in hand, and that his first interest in environmental sciences had stemmed from them. He had switched to speaking Vulcan as he described them, and she had of course followed along as if she were born to the language alongside him.

After their plates had been cleared from the table, she had asked permission to order an alcoholic beverage, which, were they in uniform she would have been required to do.

"Granted, Cadet, though we are hardly on duty." He had said, and she flashed him a smile that skipped his heart.

"Then you'll have to stop calling me Cadet, Commander."

She had her hands entwined under her chin in a way he had seen from her before. The way she had voiced his rank made his stomach twist, and he was a bit frustrated that she had been adding minutes to his meditation since before they had been seated.

"What would be your preference then, if I may ask?"

"Nyota. You can call me Nyota."

She had ordered a terran wine that she asked him to try. It was almost sickeningly sweet, and she had told him that the look on his face was "enough for her" though he was sure he had not changed his expression in a way that would warrant such a statement. She was still laughing at his expense as he held the door for her again when they left the restaurant. Although they had discussed his classes, it was the most comfortable he had ever been in a strictly personal setting. It was 1725 hours as they walked with no destination in mind when she stopped him on the path back to campus.

"Um, so… I have the rest of the PADDS graded from the final back at my dorm. If you're not trying to run away from me so fast, we could... go that way so I can get them for you."

She had done that before as well. She would not give him a way to refuse her offer without implying that he was indeed running away from her, or some similar phrase she would add. She did not ask much of him, and the illogical way she worded her requests had not made him think less of her.

"That would be satisfactory, Nyota."

It had earned him a smile that he was very nearly proud of.

They rode the turbo lift in silence up to an empty corridor in the student block hallway. He had not entered this section of the Academy since his own graduation from it, and yet it remained unchanged. The pathway was quiet as most of the students had gone home for the break, and she stopped him at the touch plate that would allow their entry, turning to face him. She was far too close, staring up at him like she was, but his mind would not let him move back. Beautiful human woman.

"Before we go in, I will apologize in advance for the disaster my roommate left our place in. As an Orion, Gaila has no sense of shame whatsoever."

"I am aware of the Orion proclivity to disregard common courtesy, but I would remind you that I was once a cadet myself." He was prepared to say something else, but had stopped short when he heard a small sound from inside. He lowered his voice. "You said that your roommate was away, correct?"

"Do you hear someone in there?" He nodded at her whisper in the affirmative, and she placed her ear to the door, but stepped back rather quickly. "Whatever, she probably just forgot everything she left on the ground."

She huffed out a little laugh, and triggered the door.

She must have noticed that he had not taken more than a single step inside, and that neither should she have. There was definitely someone there, and they were not alone. She had turned to regard him when they heard a female voice from the bedroom past the smoky partition obstructing their view.

"Ow! What's wrong with you?"

"Shh!"

Nyota rolled her eyes at him, and turned back toward the entryway, but her laughter quickly died in her throat to be replaced by a high-pitched scream. The sound shot through him, and he was by her side in an instant.

The scene he came upon was not at all as he had expected.


	4. Chapter 4

***Nyota***

"Gaila, what the hell are you doing?"

If Spock had been human, she would have scared him to death with the noise she made when she came fully into view of a naked Orion sprawled on the bed, and a man she instantly recognized as James T. Kirk standing beside her pulling his pants on. She had heard three other noises simultaneously when she did.

"Hey Ny! Where have you been all day—"

"I told you I heard someone! Hey Uhura—"

And two loud footsteps when Spock had come to see what had basically made her piss her pants.

Jim, having grabbed the rest of his clothes, stepped around them, shouted a quick "see ya' at 2100 Gaila," and ran out the still open door. Hopefully, it had hit him on the ass on the way out.

As Spock was still standing, hands behind his back per usual, in the archway, and Gaila had still made no attempt to cover herself, she picked her robe up off the floor and chucked it at her.

"What did it look like I was doing, silly? I told you I would be with Jim this week, didn't you get my note? Hey Commander."

Mercifully, as she spoke she had wrapped the robe around her shoulders, and tied the sash tight around her curvy waist.

"Hello Cadet," came his incredibly diplomatic reply. "I trust the first day of your break has been satisfactory."

She shot him a glare that should have melted him in his boots had he not been so conveniently Vulcan, Gaila simply winking at him with a mega watt smile before turning back to her.

"Yes, and this note heavily implied that you would be staying _with him_ wherever it is _he goes_ not bringing him back to _our room_ to do things that will forever be burned into the back of my skull."

"Oh whatever. You see me naked like every day, but speaking of the back of the skull, did you _see_ his—"

"AH! Stop right there! I'm leaving! You better be gone when I get back, and pick up this stuff, our room is garbage right now!" She must have completely dumped out every dresser drawer the both of them had, and for some inexplicable reason, been digging in the trash can or something. There was hardly a patch of floor to be seen in what was a somewhat clean room when she left for her run a million years ago this morning.

"No can do, babe. I have until 2100 to bring his doctor friend in here before he leaves to wherever it is _he goes_ , and then you two can have this room all to yourself. I'm sure you both can find something to do until then." She had all but purred that last bit, and her pheromones were giving her a headache on full blast.

"God, I hate you sometimes!" She screamed at her, and picked up the other bag with the PADDS for Spock's class, nevermind how weird it would look to carry two bags around with her anywhere else. She turned and followed in Jim's annoying footsteps, flying like a bat out of hell to the turbo lift.

Considering his legs were at least one light year longer than hers, he had kept up with her easily, and stepped into the lift beside her just as she pressed the button for the ground floor. She felt like she could kill her, or at least more realistically, request a transfer. The thought would have made her sad if she wasn't so mad, but at a certain point, she had to put her foot down. How many more late nights of loud music when she had to study, or time spent dragging her out of bars before she could get herself kicked out, or more men hiding under the bed and in the closest and behind the curtain of the bathtub could she take? She had long since stopped counting how often she would come home late from the library and trip onto her face over a pair of her heeled shoes, her book bag, her bottle of soda that was right next to the trash can.

He must have sensed the anger rolling off her in waves because he had stayed silent as they walked out the door of the large concrete building. Dropping both bags onto the ground with a clatter, she flopped unceremoniously onto a nearby bench, and prepared to apologize before she left this life to crawl under a rock and die there. It wouldn't really solve anything, but she had been on enough field survival simulations, there was a good chance she could make it work. She spoke into her hands, unwilling to let him see the tears stinging in her eyes.

"For the second, and now certainly not the last time today, I'm so sorry Commander. She's my best friend, but sometimes she just makes it so hard for me to be so… so… culturally sensitive!"

"You have done an admirable job of it with myself, Cadet, and I do not doubt your ability to remain so after the events of today."

She looked up to find him looming above her, his height an even more noticeable contrast if that was even possible.

"I thought we agreed you would call me Nyota."

He blinked at her as if he had actually forgotten, if _that_ was even possible, and sat gracefully as far away from her on the bench as he could without just perching on the arm of it. He folded his hands in his lap, and was quiet for a while, as she leaned back on the cold metal bars behind them, attempting to calculate the amount of time she had spent staring at his pale fingers since she was first introduced to him.

"Then you will have to stop calling me Commander, Nyota."

She felt as a smile spreading across her face despite how upset she was, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing at his parrotted words. She had made an apparent habit of suddenly changing her emotional state, and it had always left him thoroughly confused. To keep up with appearances, she huffed out what she hoped was a disgruntled breath.

"What would be your preference then, if I may ask?" She said, and she could have swore that she saw the corner of his lip twitch as she pulled a leg up unto the bench.

"I believe you will be able to think on a viable alternative. I will expect your answer in writing to be handed to me by 2100."

She rolled her eyes at him, dropping her façade with a goofy smile plastered on her face. Who ever said Vulcans didn't have a sense of humor?

"An anticipation I'm sure we'll both greatly share." She sighed, and looked up at the sun that was rapidly beginning its descent into setting. "So you're really not as completely mortified as I am about… all that?" She waved her hand up toward the building, shaking her head to clear the image of a shirtless Kirk with his belt undone in _her_ room before she could get herself worked up again.

"Do I seem that way to you?"

It hadn't been what he said, but how he said it that made her turn fully to face him. His voice, which she had only really ever heard as confident, emotionless, and commanding with notable exception, was enticingly gentle. It had made her heart beat like a drum, and stained her cheeks like a school girl.

He seemed about as relaxed as a Vulcan could be with his hands still entwined in his lap, legs crossed, and his back rigidly straight, but still pressed against the same bars just about a foot and a half away from hers. He wasn't looking at her, but had instead turned his head to look directly up at the same sun, and she could actually see his inner eyelid creating a clear, glossy layer over the part of his deep brown eye that was profile to her. He flicked it away and regarded her out of the side of that eye, raising an eyebrow at her still having not responded.

"Vulcans don't ever get embarrassed?" She had known the answer to that before he said it, but it was the best she could do in the face of such statuesque beauty.

"They do not."

She nodded at him, and looked away before she could convince herself that jumping into his lap would be a welcome idea. He really wasn't that much older than her, and she found herself picturing him as a cadet like herself. He must have been pretty lonely in a sea of shockingly expressive humans in strange red uniforms, on a planet he had admitted just two months ago that he still wasn't overly familiar with. Although, as the only known Vulcan-Human hybrid in existence, it was common knowledge that his mother was Terran, considering his father was a famous Ambassador. Today had served to put her into perspective that she was the alien to him. She felt herself growing ever more indignant in that if people would just try and get to know him and stop seeing him as some off planet museum exhibit, they could grow to truly love him. Like she did. She loved him. Impulsive decision made, she stood up abruptly.

"I want to spend more time with you." There. She said it. It had come out a little harder than she wanted, but she thought it was straight forward enough for him. She had seen him grow quite irritated in the face of an intentionally cryptic statement.

His eyes widened a fraction, but he otherwise didn't react.

"We share an office, Nyota."

"No, I know, but not like that. Like this. Other than the fact that you had to see one of your students bare assed today, this has been great. We didn't even really do anything, and the day is already pretty much over, but I want to…" She felt herself tearing up again, passion apparently made her cry at everything.

He must have noticed because he stood up, and took a breath to say something that didn't quite make it out. He looked kind of like he was suspended, on the verge of an action he couldn't bring himself to execute. Before she could step forward and finish what she thought that action was, he straightened up, and clasped his hands behind his back, still looking down at her.

"Why?"

Talk about oblivious.

"Because I don't like that people don't like you." It hadn't made much sense in context, but it wasn't technically a lie, and if there was anything someone could learn about him it was that Vulcans embrace technicality. What was she supposed to say? 'Hey Spock, wanna quit your job, and spend the rest of your life on this bench with me?' Yeah right.

He was quiet for so long, she was about to give up, and go search for a suitable rock.

"I am amenable to suggestions."

She smiled up at him, and let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. Checking the chronometer on her wrist, she figured they had time for a stop. She went ahead and set a timer on it before she could forget.

"Ice cream." She turned around and started on the path that would lead them away from campus.

"That is not a verb." He said, but he picked up both of the bags she had dropped, and started after her.

It was a warm day, and she could smell the flowers by the pond near the student housing. They walked closely together, and she stuck her hands in her pockets so she wouldn't bump his own on accident. She had always been curious as to the extent of his touch telepathy, but figured she shouldn't push her luck. They talked about work mostly, but he seemed more animated than usual. Again, without actually changing anything about himself, he seemed… relaxed.

Her break had really started to look up.


	5. Chapter 5

***Nyota***

It was kind of a long walk, she usually took a hoverbus when she and Gaila went to the shop. It wasn't really a shop at all, but more of stand in the grass with a few covered chairs, benches, and tables, and it was definitely off the most traveled path. It was past 1800 when they came to a stop in front of the grey haired proprietor who greeted her warmly, but looked almost fearful of her ever serious companion. She sent him a warning glance, and he attempted to smooth his expression. This was part of the reason why she was taking him out to begin with. She ordered her favorite mix of lavender and wedding cake, but in a cup for Spock's benefit.

The sun was still out, spreading heat where they stood in the dirt, and as the owner prepared her order, she sauntered along the side of the stand, regarding the new flavors he had added since she had last been there. She turned to look at Spock as he hadn't moved at all, and thought he seemed somewhat intrigued, but with his head tilted and eyebrow soaring, utterly confused.

"You've never had ice cream before have you?"

"Indeed, I have not. Considering a Terran flower is hardly something I would describe as edible in this context, I find myself quite at a loss."

"Well then you've really been missing out. Come look."

She waved him over to where she was leaning against the long counter, and after spending a moment considering, he came to stand next to her. She tried to explain what some of them were when the man behind the counter handed her cup to her with a little purple spoon sticking straight up from the middle, still staring wide eyed at Spock. She ignored him and tried it, and it was just as amazing as it always was. He was still standing silently beside her, and she was sure that the muscle in his brow must be the most overworked muscle in his entire lean muscled body. She chuckled at his thoughtful expression, and walked back to the front of the stand to grab another spoon, handing it to him. She held the small cup out between them, and he eventually swiped it across the top of both flavors. When he pulled it back out of his mouth, she saw his right eye twitch infinitesimally.

"It is exceptionally cold."

"That's not a very good review of _ice_ cream, so what did you think?" She laughed, and he turned back to look at the flavors under the counter.

"It was very sweet, but not so as I had initially imagined. There is a rose here as well."

She had never seen someone look so intensely at something like an ice cream flavor, so she giggled at him, and ordered him the same thing she had, but with rose. She handed her credit stick to the now likewise amused owner, feeling childishly victorious, and went to sit on one of the benches in the fading sun where he had set her bags. She slipped her sandals off to feel the soft grass under her feet, content. He gave a thank you when he was handed his order, and came to sit next to her, but ever so slightly closer than he had on a similar bench outside of the student block. He was quiet for far too long, and she really wanted to know what he thought about eating a 'Terran flower.'

"And the rose is…" She trailed off, hoping he would just say something already. After two more bites, and at least a full minute of giddy suspense, he did.

"Highly satisfactory."

"Yay!" She felt like she could explode, and she gave a thumbs up to the owner who had apparently been feeling just as apprehensive. He winked at them both, and turned back to a PADD he was holding with a smile.

They talked until the sun went all the way over the horizon, their empty cups between them, her earlier anger at her roommate forgotten. He seemed a bit less responsive than usual, she figured due to the fact that she kept catching the eye of their one man audience that had probably never heard more than one syllable from a Vulcan let alone one eating ice cream on a weekend with a human girl. She bet he would be more respectful of him had he been in uniform. She listened to him speak of the _Enterprise,_ looking up at the little point of light that was Space Dock, and wondered what it would be like to see him in active duty. She was sure he would be just as level headed and controlled as he was in everything else, but she had seen stress in him, no matter how unnoticeable it was to anyone other than herself. Was it because he trusted her to see it, or would anyone who spent so much time in his company see it too? She thought back on the months she'd been his aid, and didn't think they'd ever done anything simply because they wanted to do it, and although they had eaten breakfast, lunch and dinner together, it was always in the mess hall or in the office at their scheduled time. They had spoken about personal subjects, but those times before today had been few and far between, and with the exception of when he told her about leaving his bond mate, she still felt like she didn't really know him any better after they did. Bond mate. It had sent a feeling that seared through her stomach even then.

"Nyota?"

She was a linguist who fluently spoke dozens of languages that had impressed him when they first met, and she was speechless at his side so often. He had asked her something.

"Sorry, what?" She shook her head, and looked down at her hands, still reeling from her recent train of thought. The thought of him with a wife, that she knew he now didn't have, was…

"I asked if you are ready to go."

"Go where?" She asked, and looked up at him, the ghost of a small crease between his brows.

"That was to be my next question."

He pointed back to the stand, and she turned her head to find the owner beginning to pack away supplies. She stood, and grabbed her bags, trying to think of something. They still had more than two hours before she could be back at her dorm, but he hadn't really said he was willing to spend it with her. She didn't want him to think he had to, but she didn't want to sit outside of her building almost as bad as she didn't want to walk in on another scarring scene inside.

"Um… well we still have time to do one more thing. Unless you just wanted to head back home because you really don't have to stay with me all the way to 2100. I can… figure something out, I really don't mind." She hitched the bags a little higher on her shoulder. They were pretty heavy, considering there were 65 PADDS stuffed between the two of them. He took them from her, being careful not to touch her hand where it was holding the straps, and gestured for her to walk ahead. "You really don't have to, I know it's getting late."

"It is of no consequence. It is unsafe for you to be by yourself at this hour, and I would be remiss to leave you alone outside of the building. We will take these back to my quarters, and find a suitable activity until you are able to return to your dormitory."

At that, her stomach flipped and her heart missed a beat, but they walked on. They were going back to his quarters. She had dropped off the same PADDS there before, but had never stayed longer than that, and was always in uniform. He had seen her in casual clothing plenty of times, but she had only seen him out of his straight pressed instructor greys one other time when he had chaparoned an Academy event with Captain Pike. His presence had been ordered, and she had been dragged out in a dress, and hadn't said more than two words to him that night. It felt inappropriate to be where they were going in jeans, but it was Spock who had suggested it, and he knew every regulation as well as she knew the grammatical structure of Andorian. She asked him about Vulcan constellations as they walked at an even pace, and if they shared any of the same stars as Earth, which she knew they did. His voice was both exciting and calming her, and she tried to focus on the latter.

When their long walk was finally over, she found herself adding moments to the amount of time she watched his long fingers as they entered the code to his door. He stepped to the side for her to go in ahead of him, and she paused in the doorway, taking a quick look around. It was all very him. Sparklingly clean and neat, with paper books of scientific literature and PADDS stacked on shelves and tables. She was standing in the living room next to a soft looking couch, and she could see he had a large kitchen off to the side. Opposite that, there was a door that led to what she was almost sure was his bedroom, so she looked up to see him stepping out of his shoes, and hanging her bags on a hook next to his dining room table before she could wonder what was beyond that particular door.

"Tea?" He asked, and she nodded.

Following his example, she placed her shoes next to his, feeling a little silly about how small they looked in comparison. Like doll shoes. She rolled her eyes at the illogical thought, and realized as she sat at one of the chairs at the head of the table that she'd been doing that a lot since she met him. A few minutes later, he materialized with two steaming mugs to find her looking at a small case hanging on the wall across from the table. In it were all of the metals and stars he had earned at each promotion in rank, for bravery and gallantry, and there was even one there that recognized a severe injury while in active duty. She pointed up at it, and his gaze followed.

"That's pretty cool." She said, wrapping a hand around the mug he placed in front of her. She almost explained that she didn't mean the temperature of the tea he just gave her when he responded before she could, taking a seat next to her. She was proud of him, he was getting better at that.

"I suppose so. I do not understand the human need for a physical display of recognition, as I do not wear them save for when I am required to stand in my dress uniform, which is a rare occasion. In those instances, they have only proved to serve as a topic for uncomfortable conversation."

"Oh, you know how much StarFleet loves uncomfortable formal ceremonies." He raised a brow, but nodded in agreement. Her own curiosity was beating at her, but she knew what he meant. "So what do you want to do?"

"I am uncertain. I am reasonably sure you will have trouble finding an activity that you would describe as 'fun' in my quarters."

She doubted that very much, but stood and walked to a shelf that she had seen a 3D chess set on when she walked in. She picked it up, and, setting it on the table in front of him, he took over for her and began to arrange the pieces. He was looking at her in amusement when she sat back down without a word to sip at her tea.

"What?"

"I did not know you knew how to play this."

"I would not have offered if I did not." She said, and she saw that twitch in the corner of his lips again. She couldn't even count how many times he had said that to her.

"Of course."

He had beaten her at five games over three cups of tea when his comm went off. He looked at her expectantly, and she nodded at him. He excused himself, and walked through the door that she now knew was his bedroom, leaving her to look over her diminished pieces. She moved his knight over two spaces to a place she could take it at her next turn, and laughed. There's no way he wouldn't notice. Her chipper mood dropped as soon as she heard him speak from the other room. He was speaking Vulcan. There was only one other person she had ever heard him speak Vulcan to over the phone, and she had never seen him so blank when he had ended that call. She couldn't hear well enough to make out anything specific, but she was certain who was on the other end. She was thinking for about five minutes on a way to make him feel better, when he emerged, looking more… Vulcan than he had all day.

"I apologize." He said as he sat back down at the table. His expression was calm, but his shoulders were hunched over enough for her to immediately notice.

"Was it your father?"

"Yes."

His voice was as cold and detached as it was the day he met her, and her heart sank.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He glanced up at her, and back down to the floor in front of his feet with a very human sigh. "You don't have to." She continued, but he shook his head, still looking away from her. He didn't say anything for a long time, but she couldn't look away from him. His breathing was even, his skin a familiar pale green that was really only noticeable when he was standing next to someone whose wasn't, his hair pristinely straight and glossy black, but everything else was wrong. He had a too tight grip on his comm, his eyes were completely devoid of emotion, and his impossibly straight posture was slouched over. She had to remind herself that he was a grown man that didn't need a hug, and a Vulcan that didn't need a drink. She thought long and hard about doing it anyway when he spoke.

"I spoke with my mother on Thursday about having hired you as my teaching assistant, and that I was impressed with your skill. She over exaggerated this information to my father who was apparently rather… displeased… at my requested review of you."

"So impressed that it took you 8 months to tell your mom about me?" She said after a moment, with an air of fake disbelief. She wanted so badly to press him about what he could have said that would have displeased a man with the emotional control she was sure a Vulcan ambassador would have, but again, kept it to herself. He raised an eyebrow, but still didn't pick his eyes up off the carpet.

"I am sorry if I have disappointed you."

"You haven't. You're the smartest, most amazing boss I've ever had, and I don't care if you're a perfect Vulcan or imperfect human, or a mix of both. You're just good, and… you. I don't ever want you to think you need to be anyone else but just _you_ with _me_. I had a lot of fun today, and I also really don't care what your dad thinks about you hanging out with me tomorrow, or how he _feels_ about it the day after that. I told you I wanted to spend more time with you, and if you still want to, I will."

He had finally turned his head to look at her as she spoke, and she didn't think anything about his expression changed, but he seemed… appreciative. Where was she getting these feelings from? He was quiet again for a while, his comm clutched in his hand, when he sat all the way up and placed it on the table.

"Thank you. I… had fun as well."

He had just admitted to having fun. She had heard him say 'pleasant' but it wasn't the same. He sounded almost shy to have told her that, and she wondered if she would ever hear it again. She had a whole week to make sure of it.

"It's your turn." She said, and gave him a small smile. He turned back to the board, but when his hand went up to move his knight, it froze over the little white piece. He moved it back over two spaces, and picked up a pawn to take her own knight, which she hadn't realized she had left so open. She laughed loudly when he glanced up at her from under his dark eyelashes as if she were a total idiot for thinking he wouldn't notice. Just as he did, the chronometer on her wrist started to beep at her. She pressed the button to silence it, and sighed. "That's me. 2100."

They stood, and she walked back to the door to slip her sandals back on as he put away the pieces. He came to stand next to her at the door, but stepped back when she went over to one of the bags hanging from the hook, and pulled out a paper notebook with a pen. She wrote a single word on one sheet in what he had told her was near perfect Vulcan calligraphy, and tore the page off. Folding it in half, she handed it to him, said goodnight, and stepped around him out the door.

"I will see you tomorrow?" He asked her back as she went down the hallway, and she turned to see him staring at her, still holding the piece of paper.

"If you want to. Just call me in the morning."

She didn't see his reply as she turned the corner, and smiled so much it hurt all the way back to her dorm.

An answer in writing.


	6. Chapter 6

***Spock***

Attempting to sleep had been pointless. Meditation equally so. He had awoken three times to her scent all around him, and once found himself standing in his empty dining room, groggy, growling, and frustrated before his logic could return to him and bid him back to bed. When he opened his eyes for the final time that morning, the feeling was not dissimilar, so he simply sat up, and rested his shoulders against the wood panel, his head hitting it with a thud. It was 0632, far later than he normally slept, yet still more than likely too early to call her. He wondered if she had planned anything for them today. He did not understand why the Academy required so many long periods of break, as it seemed to him an ill-suited concept in the preparation for life aboard a starship. He felt as though he genuinely had nothing that required his immediate attention, and if regret were logical, he would find himself rethinking his decision to refuse his offered position on the _U.S.S. Nelson_ with Captain Pike. He was returning from this tour tonight. And yet, had he accepted, he would not have required a teaching assistant. It was too early, he could wait to call her.

He could not.

She had said that he could after she handed him the…

He turned his head to his bedside table, and found the small note she had given him before she left the night before. He picked it up, but could not open it, that unknown feeling tightening in his chest. Her answer in writing. He had been 'joking' he supposed it was when he had said that, and yet, as in everything else, she had been given a task, and saw it through. He had not trusted her ability to perpetually do this when they had first assigned her to him, and he had offended her with it.

 _Her skin was a light brown, and her hair a straight, dark black much like his own, but far longer. Her eyes, which had struck him momentarily when they first met his, were set in determination. Sitting across his desk, she was aesthetically pleasing with her wide eyes, and thin figure, but he did not need her assistance. She was a requirement for him. She had greeted him in Vulcan, and he was mildly irritated at the presumption, as she was not the only human of his acquaintance that had a grasp of the language. Her accent was admittedly superior to those others he had met, but it did not warrant such a flaunting of the skill. She seemed far too free spirited for his liking. He addressed her greeting in Standard._

" _Cadet, I have been ordered by my department to acquire a teaching assistant, and your candidacy has proven sufficient. Your grades in this class were admirable, but your skill in communication will not be the only quality looked upon when placing you aboard a starship. If your discipline is not up to my standard, I will note it. Understood?"_

" _Yes Commander."_

She had not given him more than a polite greeting for nearly a month afterward, until he had invited her to join him in the mess hall for lunch. She had proven an asset to him within that time, and he felt an apology was needed. She had worked more comfortably next to him in the months following. Humans.

The piece of paper in his hand still smelled of her, and he flipped it open to view the single word she had written in near perfect Vulcan calligraphy.

' _Spock'_

He felt as though his heart could burst from his side, and his breathing was becoming uneven. That one small word had forced him into a chair when he had closed his front door to view it. After spending 3 minutes and 17 seconds staring at it, he had risen to meditate, but his mind had consistently come back to her. Her eyes fixed on his face as he reconnected the wires of her console, her hand under her chin at their late lunch, her sudden exclamation to spend time with him, a purple spoon in her mouth, her leg bouncing with excitement as she waited for his approval, her acceptance and pure concern after his father's unnecessary call, never ending. He could not free himself of her, and could not bring himself to be ashamed of it. He would have her as his wife.

He could not.

He slid back down the bed, and turned his face into his pillow. There was no one here to see or hear him, he could scream into it if he wanted to. She was a student, and he a commissioned officer. The regulations regarding fraternization were clear, but even given his Vulcan patience and self control, he did not think he could wait another full year to have her. He knew that she desired the _Enterprise,_ and he was quite certain her skill would earn her a leading position on it regardless of his conflict of interest, but how could he bear her presence as he was until the ship was completed? Perhaps she did not want him to. She had said that she did not like the thought of people not liking him, and he had been confused by that, but she had hesitated over the words in a way that made him think this was not what she had intended to say. Perhaps she—

His stomach jumped as his blaring comm jerked him from his thoughts. He bolted upright to grab it off the table, clearing his throat, and his fingers fumbled over it when he saw the identification. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and flipped it open, but did not know what to say. She had spoken before he could think on it.

"Hey Spock. Sorry, it's super early. Did I wake you up?"

"You did not." She sounded excited, and he was glad that he was at least in control of his own voice.

"Good. Did you sleep okay?"

His mother asked him this question regularly, though he had voiced his opinion that it was irrelevant. He could not lie, but had no desire to tell her that he had been up and down most of the evening with thoughts of her. He gave her a technicality that he hoped was adequate.

"Vulcans do not require rest in human quantities to remain operational."

"Oh, that's right. Okay well, did you still want to… spend the day with me? I have a couple things in mind, and Gaila will only be back tonight, and then she's leaving again, so..."

"So I am to presume that my presence is a tolerable replacement until then?"

"Of course! Wait… that sounded bad. Whatever, I know what you're trying to do, I could spend everyday with you."

She had been laughing as she said it, and had not been aware of his previous thoughts on that matter, but the statement pulled at him. He felt his control slipping from his reach, as his meditation had been hugely unsatisfactory. Another attempt will have to be made before anything else.

"I have a matter I must attend to before we begin our day. I will meet you at your dormitory at 0900, if that is acceptable."

"Sounds good. See you then."

He shut the comm, and placed it back on the table. His hand was shaking slightly, and when he rose from the bed he felt a bit light headed. Meditation was most certainly in order. He showered and changed quickly, and folded himself before his large firepot in the corner of his bedroom, willing himself to be calm. After an hour of aggravating failure, he gave up, and went into his dining room to look over the assignments Nyota had graded the day before. She was correct in her own assessment of which students had improved, and which would require separate tutoring. He did not like to set aside his time for one-on-one study, as he was teaching an advanced course, and if certain students could not maintain a passing average, they should be removed to a remedial version of the class. It had been her idea, and he had come to find that denying her anything was a test of his will. It had been beneficial to some, hopeless for others. He had had to explain his harsh reasoning to other professors, who were growing upset at the fact that their students were falling behind in their classes in order to keep up in his. He had a great respect for teaching, and would boost students with the ability to improve, but had no desire to coddle others who had an apparent wish to die on their first tour due to unwarranted praise for slow thinking. It would not do to think that 'you tried your best' in class meant the end of your life on duty.

With that, he dropped the three students with the lowest average to a suitable course that was befitting their schedule, and would need to task Nyota to 'damage control' so to speak. They would receive an automated message informing them of this, and he was certain he would receive a number of pointed missives from students, parents, and fellow professors alike. She was far more apt at soothing her irate peers than he, and he admired her for it, considering his blunt explanations had only caused further agitation in past experiences.

It took him a further 58 minutes to listen to each audio recording he had assigned, which was a redundancy, given that his assistant had already, but he felt far more in control of himself as he queued the last of them. The question was, how long could he stay that way with his meditation so unstable? He had had to resort to simple distraction, which would not hold. It did not bear to think of, so he stacked the PADDS neatly on the table, and went back into his bathroom to shave, and dress for the day. Perhaps Nyota could distract him with the plans she had in mind if he distanced his own from the way she looked at him as he spoke. The way her voice sounded when she was in a fit of sudden passion. The way her body always seemed to shift toward him when he sat next to her. The way—

His comm once again pulled him out of his shifting thoughts, and he realized he had been standing before his mirror, his palms flat on the counter, doing nothing. It was a priority one call, and whether the call was an actual priority or not, Christopher Pike was the only man who used the signature to get his attention. He walked back to his bedside, and flipped it open.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Mr. Spock! I need a favor. And I thought we agreed you would call me Chris."

"How can I be of assistance, Chris?" It sounded a little awkward even to himself. He had always found it to be extremely disrespectful to address him without his rank, but he had no wish to have this argument with his… friend again.

"I'm gonna need you to come to the bar with me tonight, buddy. The Malfunction. Number One bailed on me, and I'm not going by myself."

"I am afraid I must decline, Captain. I have… plans with a woman of my acquaintance today."

"Damn it, Spock, it's Chris. Wait, what? A woman of your… a woman?"

He repressed a sigh. The man had an apparent need to pry into his newly found social life consistently. He should have been more general in his refusal.

"That is correct."

"Wow, that's… uh. Well that's great! Bring her along!"

"Christopher, she has already—"

"Look, Spock, don't make an old man sit at the bar by himself. My mind is made, there's a big celebration for the end of what was supposed to be _our_ tour, and I can't find whiskey that good anywhere else. Come on, we're going at 8 o'clock."

"I will… pose the suggestion to her."

"Sweet deal. That means good, not something about sugar. See you at 8."

He closed the device harder than he had consciously intended. He knew what the phrase meant. Nyota had explained it to him 3 months, 6 days, 1 hour, and 3 minutes ago. He did not want to sit at a bar with ridiculously loud music, underdressed women, and overly intoxicated ship crew for any amount of time for anyone. He would indeed pose the suggestion to her, but if she had other plans for them, he would not allow his Captain to disrupt them. Although he would be upset, he could hardly make a personal social event an order. He finished shaving, combed his hair away from his face, as it did need a trim, and went to his closet to find something suitable to wear. He did not particularly care for human dress, but Nyota had told him he 'looked good' when he had seen her at a similar event he was ordered to chaperone. Under these circumstances, he was not certain what would be appropriate, but he did not believe it mattered much in casual settings. He shrugged on a plain white short sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of black pants. He would have to wear a jacket, which would look odd in what a human would consider warm weather, but he found that wearing white kept some people away from him where they would have no issue in other colors. It magnified the green tone of his skin in a way that made strangers uneasy. This would serve his increasingly thin patience well.

He pulled on his boots, and checked his appearance in the mirror once more. His eyes looked ill-rested, but it could not be helped. Grabbing his jacket off the hook in the dining room, he triggered the door and started down the sidewalk toward the student building. At exactly 0900, he stepped off the turbo lift, and walked five doors down the hall to press the ringer on her touch plate. He stood back, and waited for 45 seconds before he thought of pressing it again. He could hear her fumbling around, and was growing concerned when she shouted at him from inside to come in. She knew the only way he could was to use his override code, so he did with some amusement, and came to stand in the archway to regard her in shock.

He had told her that he would be here at this time, but even slightly disheveled, she was more beautiful than ever. Her hair came to stop 2.58 centimeters above her waist, and was wet and messy. A pang of desire concentrated low in his stomach in a way he had never felt before, and it was difficult to keep his feet rooted to the ground where he stood. He felt his hand twitch with the need to card his fingers through it, and was grateful she had still not turned to face him. She seemed to be searching for something, and considering she was dressed in light jeans, and an extremely form fitting, thin strapped shirt, but dressed nonetheless, he assumed she was looking for a particular pair of shoes. She put her hands on her hips, and huffed a breath of frustration, turning to set her eyes on him.

"Sorry, Spock, I'm looking for my shoes. You look nice." She was distracted, but he could see her running her gaze over him before turning back to her search.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance. What do they look like?"

"Green."

That had been far from helpful, but from his viewpoint, he could see a pair of small, green sandals in a corner under one of the beds. He pointed at them while he still had her attention, and she whipped around to follow his hand. A wave of her scent settled over him as her long hair came over her shoulder, and his breath hitched in his throat, as he watched her walk to the bed, and crouch down to grab them. She smelled of roses and honey and _girl._ This was impossible. He would never find anything close to peace until he could mark her as his. Until he was mated and bonded with _her._ Regulations aside, he would have her.

"Got 'em! Thanks."

"It is of no consequence. You were not ready?"

"Yeah I woke up like 20 minutes before I called you, I didn't sleep very well in here by myself. For all the complaining I do about Gaila, I don't know what I would do without her. I figured I had time for a run, and underestimated. Ready?"

She stood from her seat on the side of the bed where she was tying the straps on her sandals, and came to stand in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at her, as he had been ready for 24 minutes before arriving at her door, and she laughed at his wordless response. He followed her out the door, and onto the turbo lift, holding his breath for as long as he could as she walked by him, and in the small space of the lift. He was an accomplished scientist and mathematician, but could not formulate a suitable way out of the predicament he found himself in. He needed to be near her, but could barely tolerate it in such restraint. He must find a way to calm his meditation, if it meant he had to come to the extreme measure of drugging himself with Vulcan herbs into a trance. This feather light grasp on his control would not hold. He stopped on the walkway outside the door of the building. He had seen the bench they sat on together the previous day, and realized he had not asked where they were going. He did, and she turned to face him, the morning sun gleaming off her damp, black hair, and he found that it had strands of red in it in the light. Fascinating.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask. It's a surprise. I'll give you one useless hint in that it's a pretty long walk, and I don't feel like driving."

"I will apologize in advance for my lack of exclamation upon our arrival then, and I was unaware you were in possession of another method of transportation."

She laughed, and continued on her path, but did not offer further response on her vehicular ownership. He was curious, but it did not matter what she had planned for them as long as he could pass the day with her. His earlier turmoil was fading away as she told him on their walk of her evening without her roommate, and he was resigned to the fact that she would not have to spend her nights alone much longer. He would make sure of it.


	7. Chapter 7

***Spock***

It had indeed been a comparatively long walk, but he had not minded it, as she had kept him distracted with hints on where they were going. They had stopped for breakfast along the way at a family owned restaurant he had not noticed before, but it was as easy and comfortable as all other activities in her presence. She attempted to keep her secret, but had told him she had a membership to the place, most everything would be blue, it had recently opened, and she had even said that, as a man of a very dry planet, it should be something of a novelty to him. He had long ago deduced that they were going to some sort of aquarium, but had let her carry on until her hints were painfully obvious when they walked through the entrance.

Most everything truly was blue, but it was almost entirely done in lighting, and was unremarkable. There were large tapestries detailing the many exhibits inside, and it smelled of salt water and plant life, but most of which hanging from the ceiling and up the walls were fake. She seemed to notice his aforementioned lack of excitement as they walked past a long line for a ticket booth, but did not mention it, and they came to stand in front of a woman in perhaps her mid 60's to the side of the general population of the building. She scanned a barcode on a pass Nyota had handed her, and addressed him in what he imagined was kindly meant surprise.

"A Vulcan at an aquarium! This should be quite a day for you."

"So I have been told, though I admit I have yet to come to the same conclusion."

"Just the lobby, dear. Go ahead."

He thanked her, and followed Nyota, who had been silently beaming at them both, down a long, dimly lit hallway that was adorned in similar decoration. He could see where it opened up, and stopped walking the moment they came through the end of it. She had had to push him lightly out of the way of the people behind them after a moment as he came upon a very large tank that wrapped around and past them for nearly 60 meters that was filled with fish of a compatible predatory nature. He had never had a desire to travel outside of Seattle, where his mother's family were from, and rarely left the immediate area surrounding the Academy save for when he was visiting the _Enterprise,_ or leaving the planet entirely. As an environmental and biological scientist, he had more than a basic knowledge of ocean life, but had never seen anything quite like what he was viewing so close. He felt as though he were a part of it, which he supposed was the purpose of the design.

With a hand on his arm, she moved them forward, and even through the sleeve of his jacket, he could feel the difference in their body temperatures. They followed a path of animal tracks that were painted on the ground below, and saw a great many spectacles of his intrigue as the hours passed. At 1315, they had eaten lunch in a café inside the building, and he had told her of his decision to drop three students from his class. She seemed relieved, as one of those students had been the one to have sprained her wrist 3 weeks ago, and he had made a few unbecoming remarks to her in that time that she had not shared with him. If she had, he would have made his decision both disciplinary and academic, and with three failed attempts at meditation, may have been more… detailed in his report than was necessary. Sensing his growing irritation, she stood, and they continued on to their next stop at an otter enclosure.

He had pulled out a pocket sized tricorder he usually carried with him, and as most of the exhibits were somewhat open, he was able to record 235 pings worth of useful data. Nyota had seemed both bemused and disappointed that he could not simply 'enjoy' himself, and had to 'make everything about work', but he had assured her that her suggestion was in fact rather extraordinary to what she had so diplomatically referred to as a desert alien, and she was placated. The salt water gallery had been a semi circle, and at 1635 they came to stand in the entrance lobby once again. She had expressed a wish for the time they spent surrounded by strange animals to last forever, and, illogical and overly emotional as it was, he could not disparage her the sentiment.

He was reviewing the information stored in his tricorder as they came through the gates of the Academy, when he remembered Captain Pike's demand for his company. He was exceptionally tired, and it was beginning to wear on the timeliness of his thought processes.

"Nyota, do you have any other plans scheduled for this evening?"

"Gaila is coming back in an hour, I was going to meet her at the dorm now that we've left the aquarium. Sorry, I probably should have mentioned I didn't really have anything else for us to do."

"It is quite alright. In fact, I wondered if I might pose a suggestion to you."

They had stopped on a split path that would lead him back away from campus to his apartment, and her to the student building. She was smiling at him, but was fidgeting with the hem of her shirt in what he had come to recognize as anxiety in her.

"Sure. I'm going to the bar with Gaila tonight, but before and after, I'm pretty much free."

"What is the name of the bar?"

"The Malfunction. There's apparently some big party there tonight that she's coming back for, and I was… going to see if you wanted to go too, but… I know that's not really your thing."

"I was already invited, though you are correct."

She raised her wide eyes from the ground to stare directly up at him, and his lungs ceased proper working order.

"But you _are_ going to be there?"

"Yes. This was to be the—"

He felt himself take a step back from her, as she clapped her hands over her mouth with a squeal and gave a little jump, but abruptly stood still, reducing her mirth to a wide smile, when someone passed them on the sidewalk with a strange look. An expressionless Vulcan man and an excitable human woman hardly seemed a harmonious pair to unbiased eyes. She lowered her voice, but her face was still indicative of extreme emotion.

"We're going at 9."

"I will be there with Captain Pike at 8."

"Okay. Perfect. Well its going to take hours for Gaila to get me ready because I'm sure she'll insist, so… I'll see you then."

He nodded, and watched her walk away from him until she went around the corner before he started down the opposite walkway. His eyes felt scratchy with exhaustion from his restless evening, and his feet were heavy by the time he arrived at the touch plate for his front door. He pressed his fingers on the pad to trigger it open, and forced himself inside, sitting back into the couch as soon as he stepped out of his boots. He generally only required three hours of sleep per night, but most of his rest cycles were carried out in meditation, which had been unsatisfactory for days. That, on top of the strange assortment of emotions he had been experiencing since his realizations regarding Nyota, had left him in a state of sleepiness he had not felt since he was a cadet. That had been a difficult time for him.

StarFleet was 18% more densely populated with humans at that time than it currently was, and he had not been to Earth since his decision to work towards acceptance to the Vulcan Science Academy. It was a 'culture shock' to him to see the many expressions on the faces of the young adults surrounding him, to hear unabashed laughter, parents crying over their children as he stepped through the gates. As the only member of his species in the organization, he had been taken aside quite a few times by Captain Pike himself for senseless talk with professors and Admirals regarding his interest in science track study right off of the shuttle. He was intensely uncomfortable with how many of them he had had to turn down for a handshake, and how many had simply ignored him to grab it anyway. When he had finally been shown to his single bed room—he had not been assigned a roommate for various reasons—he had slept for 8 hours, and missed three video comm calls from his mother. She still chastised him for that nearly a decade later when she was in a particular mood.

" _Spock! I've been calling you for hours! What happened? You look awful!"_

" _Thank you mother. I was sleeping."_

" _Oh. I'm sorry, son, you know much I worry when I don't hear from you. How was your first day?"_

" _I shook hands with five people."_

" _That bad, huh? You'd think they'd have at least a basic understanding of Vulcan culture. How many do they have in StarFleet now?"_

" _I am the only one."_

" _Oh Spock. I'm—"_

" _Do not trouble yourself. I am not a child mother. I will be fine."_

"' _Fine' has variable definitions, honey."_

" _I am aware."_

" _I miss you so much already, Sp—"_

His eyes snapped open to the sound of his comm for a third time, and he squeezed them shut again in desperate frustration. Tonight would be an experiment in how much he could be tested before he snapped. He set it aside to send a wave of affection to his mother across his familial bond, her voice still ringing clear in his mind, as he dug in his pocket to silence the noise that was interrupting it. Priority one. He flipped it open too hard, and he heard the top creak under the stress of his hand.

"Yes?" His voice was rough, and hard with sleep, and he attempted to clear it.

"Spock? Is everything… I won't ask, but I hadn't heard from you about whether or not you're bringing your lady companion tonight? Who is she anyway, do I know her?"

"She had already made plans to attend the event with her roommate, and will be arriving later in the evening. She is my teaching assistant."

"Cadet Uhura? Uh, I'm glad you guys are… getting along then. Alright well, hop to it Spock, we're on our way up there now."

"Very well."

Upon returning his comm unite to his pocket, he racked his clouded brain to calculate how long he had slept. It was 1952. He had 8 minutes to make a 6 minute journey lest he be late for the first time in his life. This needless break in classes had both pleased and discouraged him greatly. He had not even taken his jacket off, so he slipped his boots back on, ran a hand through his hair, and left his now completely dark apartment.

He almost turned around when he heard the immensely loud music, and conversation spilling onto the street outside the doors of The Malfunction before he had yet to round the corner. People, both alien and human, were hiding in the shadows of the pulsing lights in an ally way between the buildings, sitting on the curb, waiting in line to enter, and shouting over the balcony of the second floor. He wished he had been walking with Nyota. He should have told his Captain that he would be late so that he could, but did not want to rouse suspicion of their… relationship, no matter how one sided it might be. His friend had made a habit of making personal inquiries into anything and everything he had no desire to speak of.

He had been taken here before to celebrate various crew members return from space, so he walked past the line to stand in front of a broad shouldered man at the entrance. He gave his StarFleet ID to him, and was sent inside with complaint from the many who had been waiting before him. His chest was vibrating with a bass he could feel from the ground, and as he weaved through the crowd, he had to put his hands in the pockets of his jacket to avoid making mental contact with an intoxicated stranger. He found the crew of the _Nelson_ easily enough, as he could see them waving at him from the entrance, and once he had stepped up to their table, he was grabbed by the shoulder, and pulled into a chair next to the Captain. He was handed a Terran beer from a bucket of ice sitting on top of the table, which was somewhat secluded, and quieter than the ones he had passed toward the middle of the bar. It was bitter, but tolerable, and he sat silently as he was recounted the many stories he had missed while teaching at the Academy. He was listening to Lieutenant Commander Briggs tell him of a 'close call' with the warp drive when Captain Pike interrupted him, shaking his shoulder to get his attention.

"There she is Spock! Who's that young lady with her? Jesus, are they a sight for sore eyes."

He had only distantly heard the last statement when his gaze fell on her.

She was wearing a black dress with short laced sleeves that looked as though it had been sprayed on, and came to stop just above her knees. As she turned to greet someone, he had seen that there was a circular cut out in the thin fabric spanning the middle of her back that showcased a small tattoo of Earth's moon on her bare skin. She had not mentioned that. Her hair was done up in some elaborate fashion that showed the long line of her neck, and she had on a pair of shining silver earrings hanging low on either side of her face. She was at least 10 centimeters taller given her impractical footwear, but he did not have time to give her appearance more than a glance before her roommate, who was dressed in something red and scandalously revealing, pointed and waved at him. She grabbed Nyota by the top of her arm, and spun her around to meet his eyes. His breath was forced from him when she did, her dark eyelashes blinking rapidly until she was dragged through the crowd by the grip on her arm to join him. Captain Pike clapped him hard on the back, and shouted at him over the music.

"Snap out of it Spock! Even I don't think I can go by the book on that green beauty next to her."

He turned to regard him with his eyebrow shooting up of its own accord. Those regulations were clear, and he, quite hypocritically, thought to say so when he felt her cool hand on his shoulder, and heard the high voice of her roommate squeaking at the crew. When he turned to greet her, he found her so close that he nearly jostled her with his arm as the Captain pushed a chair under her, and pulled up his own to sit next to the green woman in question. He felt her knees bump his as she sat, and she shifted when she was addressed by the booming Christopher Pike.

"What are we drinking, Cadets?" He said, and their answer came simultaneously.

"Whiskey!"

"I like these two, Spock." He turned to the men behind the bar, who were close enough to hear the piercing whistle he gave. "A round of the good stuff, boys!"

He heard a cheer go around the table, and as the Captain had already engaged his new companion in conversation when it died down, he looked to Nyota, who spoke before he could.

"How was that first hour without me?"

"Loud." He found he could not think on a more suitable response with his mind forcing his eyes away from the feminine curve of her neck and shoulder as she leaned towards him to hear it. She laughed.

"I can imagine." She paused, and waved her hand down the front of her body in a little flourish. "So what do you think? I told you it would take hours, we actually finished getting ready like 15 minutes before we got here."

What did he think? How was he to begin?

"You… you did not mention you had a tattoo."

"Oh, yeah. I got it the second I turned 18. It was silly really, but I—yes!" Their waiter had come around with a tray of shot glasses filled with a brown liquid, and placed one in front of each of them. "Have you ever taken a shot before?"

"I have not." The crew had picked up their glasses, and held them in the air.

"To the _Nelson_!"

"Just toss it back, Spock!"

He grabbed the small glass, and emptied it. He felt it burn all the way down his chest and with his next breath, but it evaporated just as quickly. He heard a few groans from the crew, and the Captain shouting at the bartender for a bottle of what they had just drank, but he did not wish to do that again. She had been watching his reaction, and awaiting his response.

"How was that?"

"It was… unpleasant, and mildly painful."

"Yeah, they're all going to be like that. They're not really for the taste of it, if you ask me."

"What is their purpose?"

"To get you drunk as fast as possible, that's it."

Before he was able to tell her that this was entirely illogical, her roommate had stood and grabbed her by the front of her dress, and screamed in her face while she hoisted her from her chair. She grabbed four glasses, including his own, and ripped the bottle that Captain Pike had just been handed from his hands. She poured the contents into the glasses and handed two to Nyota as she spoke.

"This is our song! Take those shots, and let's go dance!"

"Gaila—"

"The shots woman!"

She sent him an apologetic look before tossing back both glasses, and dropping them on the table. She gave him a little wave, and wiggled away from him through the growing crowd. The crew had spread with her to other areas of the bar as she left, and it was quieter without them. He was watching her spin around for 7 minutes, feeling oddly satisfied as she pushed a man away from her that was coming far too close, when Captain Pike came to sit in her chair, effectively blocking his view of her.

"What a night, Spock. It's barely 10, and I'm blitzed." He could only assume this meant highly intoxicated, but did not ask for further clarification, and was agitated that she was no longer in his line of sight. "Listen, I want you to know that I don't think any less of you for refusing the position on the _Nelson._ I'm proud of you, Spock, you've come a long way from the kid I met, and with that gorgeous girl on your arm, you're really movin' on up."

"Captain, I am her superior officer."

"Don't give me that. I've seen the way you look at her, and you have had women staring at you all night. This is your Captain speaking, and I'm going to go home with that Orion if she'll let me, and I want you to go with her friend. Those regulations are meant to steer away from favoritism, but this is you we're talking about, and Uhura's been top of her class every year she's been here. Just live a little Spock."

He was aware that he was staring at him in obvious shock, but could not smooth his expression. Captain Pike had not slurred his speech, did not have a bleary gaze, but had level headedly suggested that he go against the only thing that had been keeping him from acting upon the dreams he had been having of her. He was immensely confused, and took a breath to say this, when he caught her in his peripheral vision near the entrance. He stood, but he saw her shake her head, and hold both her hands up in the air, spreading her fingers and mouthing 'ten minutes.' He raised an eyebrow at her, and she pointed toward the door. With that, he figured she was overheated as she was flushed a deep pink, and needed a break. He nodded at her, and watched her walk through the door before resuming his seat. The Captain was still regarding him with a very fatherly look, so he dropped his guard and lowered his voice. Perhaps he could offer him sage advice in this instance. The man was merely four years short of double his age, after all.

"Chris, I do not know what to do. The Vulcan way is not a simple excuse to remain oblivious in these matters. It is a necessity that I control the emotions I have for her, as they are far stronger than what you feel for her Orion roommate, who is most assuredly manipulating you with a high pheromone output. She has disrupted my sleep, and rendered meditation useless, and I am concerned that this control will not hold. I am not one to so blatantly disregard regulation, but I feel that I cannot continue with her as I am. As I have been."

He was silent for 2 minutes and 48 seconds before he responded.

"Then don't, Spock. Obviously, you can't go shouting it the rooftops, but I know you know how to keep a tight lip on these sorts of things. Everything's going to be fine, son, but you can't just let a girl like that run off. Speaking of which..."

Gaila had come to stand next to them, panting, and practically bursting from her dress. She poured herself another shot, and flopped down beside him, waving a hand in his direction.

"Has Nyota come back yet? Some guy said he wanted to talk to her outside about you. Something about your class. She said it was hot anyway, I don't know."

"What is his name?"

"Uh… I don't remember, he's kinda short, brown hair, and he had a pretty big scar on his… right arm. Yeah. They left like five minutes ago."

"Go find her, Spock."

He was already out of his chair. He pushed his way through the crowd, and all but knocked the entrance door off its hinges. He scanned the area, and did not see her, but was catching her scent. She had been wearing a strong perfume, and it was leading a palpable trail as he came around the corner in the direction of his apartment building. He was growing concerned, and sped up his pace. Her roommate had just been describing the cadet that had hurt her in the sparring match. He was hit with a wave of intense anxiety as his nose came upon a second scent. A male. He broke into a sprint toward his building. If he had so much as placed a single digit on her, he would tear it from him.

As he neared the path leading directly to his complex, he could hear a muffled voice, and the sound of a boot scuffing on the pavement. He could not yet see them, but his blood was boiling, his ears ringing, and his mind fogged with overwhelming anger. He was 5 meters from turning the last corner when he heard her scream, and the sound snapped his loose grasp on his logic as surely as if it had never been there. He felt a growl coming from deep in his chest, an inhuman sound that served no other purpose than to cause fear, and he would see it in that boys face and would revel in it. This was not an opportune time to test his violent, alien nature.

If he found his hands on her, he would kill him.


	8. Chapter 8

**M Rated**

 ***Nyota***

Just want to talk, my ass.

She had had a bad feeling about the whole thing as soon as he turned them around the corner, so she had directed them straight for Spock's apartment from there. As the bar was really one of the only things still open on that street, it was the closest place she could think of where someone would see or hear them if she made enough noise. At least, that's what she told herself. He was short, but strong with a quick temper, and his grip was insane. She found that out first hand when she knocked him down on the sparring mats. He was all dumb strength, she was all quick technique, and she wasn't too sure which would win, considering she had just taken three shots less than 20 minutes ago. She tried to explain why he had been dropped from the class, and even said that she would try to talk to the Commander about it, but he hadn't said more than one word since he took her outside.

Her heart was already pounding when he made the first grab at her less than 15 feet from his door. She twisted around, but her damn shoes were making it hard for her to keep her footing. His fist shot out toward her face, and she batted it away, but not before it could bluntly connect with the corner of her jaw. When she stumbled to the side a bit, he came around behind her, slapping his hand over her mouth, and he was too short to effectively headbutt, so she struggled against him in the hope that she could get an arm around him. She dug her heel into the top of his foot, and his hand loosened as he yelped, so she pushed her arms under his, turned around, and backed up a ways. He charged her, and she jumped out of the way to see him fall forward, and catch himself on a tree. He was breathing hard when he turned around to face her, and from the smell of his breath she caught before, he was far more drunk than she was, and looked like he couldn't stand straight. He walked toward her, unsteady.

"That alien idiot never should have come to this planet, and when he finds his precious TA the way _I'm_ going to leave her, he'll wish he had stayed in the sand."

She took a breath to shout at him to shut up, but his hand flashed out to grab her face by the jaw and lift it. His other hand gripped her wrist, and twisted it back, forcing a scream from her, as it was the same wrist he sprained three weeks ago, and it still hurt like a bitch when too much pressure was put on it. She could hear what she thought was someone running with their dog, so she turned her face, and shoved a knee into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and doubling him over. She went to run away from him and toward the sound, but before she could she felt a gust of air next to her and saw a set of pale, green hands fist in the front of his shirt.

Spock.

His expression was twisted, and she stupidly felt a little guilty for thinking of a dog because that harsh, loud growling was coming from him. She had never heard anything like it. The asshole of the century was yelling and trying to break his hold until he was lifted off the ground with a gasp, both hers and his eyes widening in fear at the ear splitting, inhuman roar from their dignified Commander. One of the hands in his shirt came up to grab his throat, and once his hold on it tightened until the boy was strangling and choking, the other took his wrist. He pressed his long fingers into what she was sure was a pressure point, and it went limp. He did the same thing, harder this time, to the top of his arm with a similar result. He was trying to scream at him, his mouth wide open in pain, his good hand grasping at his forearm where it held him by the neck, but his airway was blocked.

" _You will never touch her again."_

His words were heavily accented in a way that would have rendered them unintelligible to the boy he was addressing if his feet dangling off the ground weren't indication enough. He was starting to turn purple, and as much as she hated him, she didn't want him to die, and send Spock to prison. She had just been standing there, frozen.

"Spock, put him down." His hand loosened a fraction, but he still didn't let go. "Spock, _please!_ "

He turned his head to her, and dropped him with a hard thud onto the sidewalk. It took him less than a second to get to his feet, and run straight into hell, or wherever.

Once he was out of sight, those slender fingers wrapped around her waist, and lifted her like she weighed nothing until she was level with his towering height. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he held her in the air, his eyes were wild and running up and down her body, searching for a more serious injury. She waited for him to set her back down, but he didn't. His eyes were locked onto hers, dilated, pitch black, and he was shaking slightly. Her jaw and wrist were sore, but she'd been hurt worse. She put her hands on either side of his face, and felt his fever hot skin. He had always been so careful to keep from touching her, but he needed to calm down. As soon as her skin met his, the snarl that had bared his teeth turned into a sharp gasp. She was rushed with affection, concern, and an _anger_ she couldn't describe, but that wasn't her own. She felt his happiness when she had agreed to go to lunch with him off campus, his relaxation as they walked together to the ice cream stand, his appreciation for her comfort after his father's call, and below it, an intense desire to _own_ her. It felt like it had always been there, not something that just came about by seeing her hurt. His occasional irritation at her, his endearment at her human expressiveness, his alien compulsion to protect her, his love tightening in his chest, his long standing exhaustion, all of it. In just that moment that she touched him, her entire life and future felt like it had been set all along. By him. For him. She kept her hands still, but her breathing was matching his, shallow and quick. She spoke to him in Vulcan.

" _Spock… I'm okay. It's okay. Let's go inside. I can make you some tea, if you want."_

From her hands on his face, she could feel her voice calming him, and after a minute or so he nodded, but only let her go long enough to shift her to where he had one arm behind her back, and one under her knees. He set her on the ground once they reached the touch plate to put his hand gingerly on the reader, but he paused when it hissed open, and she walked them inside. He pressed his back to it when it closed again, and she heard him kick his boots off in the dark.

"Lights 30 percent." She said as quietly as she could, but they didn't come on. She repeated the order in Vulcan, and they clicked dimly to life.

He was blinking slowly, his eyebrows still knit together, and his hands came up to rub his eyes as she placed hers on his shoulders to take his jacket off. He lifted his back off the door for her to push it all the way down, swaying a little while she reached over to hang it on the hook. Grabbing his hand, she took him to the couch and sat next to him. She had never seen him this way, he was so obviously tired, and yet stiff with a posture he must have been born with. Even with his expression still showing what was now somewhat diluted anger, it was adorable. With a giggle that was greatly at odds with what had just occurred—she couldn't help it after feeling what he felt for her—she laid a hand on his forehead and leaned him back into the cushions, pushing his silky hair away from it. She did the same, closing her eyes against the mild spin of the room, and waited for their breathing to slow.

She should have been afraid of him, but she wasn't. She wondered if he had felt all those same things from her when they were touching at any point. She should be embarrassed by the force of her feelings, but she wasn't that either. She was happy. Elated. The action seemed a little sudden, but the idea had always been there since her first day in his class, and she felt like she was being held under water with the weight of it. She needed so badly to be near him, and felt like she might die if he let regulation keep her from doing just that, forever. She never wanted to leave his side again, and would work herself into oblivion to earn a post on the _Enterprise_ with him. She had always wanted that ship, but with a driving need now that hadn't been there before. She felt her buzz wearing off over time as they sat silently together, under newly enhanced motivation, and could feel a rumbling from beside her. She thought he was snoring, as it was coming in time with his breath, but it sounded a little softer and different. She smiled, and opened her eyes to find him looking at her evenly, his expression smoothed and calm. She was too comfortable to sit up, but turned her head toward him.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Their faces were so close, she could feel his breath with the word. She nodded.

"Me too. I should… probably head home. You know, I've never seen you in short sleeves."

The last word was huffed as he grabbed her by the back of her neck, and with one quick tug, they were so near it was hard to focus on his eyes. He was quiet for too long, her thundering pulse the only noise between them, and she could… sense that he was trying to distance his feelings from her through the contact.

"Why did you lead him here when he took you from the bar?" She couldn't breathe. Her mind couldn't come to terms with anything outside of his beautiful face. Her hand twisted in the front of his shirt at the collar. "Why?"

"I don't know." Her voice was shaky, her heart was hammering, and she was tingling as if she would faint. What did he want her to tell him?

"I want you to tell me why you led him here." His hand was still on the bare skin of her neck. He could probably hear her thinking about it. Fine.

 _Because I knew you would find me._

His grip tightened.

 _Because I wanted to stay here tonight._

His breath hitched.

 _Because no one can touch me but you._

He pressed his lips to hers, feather light, and she was set on fire. Goosebumps flashed over her whole body, and her nails were digging into her palm where they were pulling his shirt so hard it could rip. She could feel him trying not to hurt her, to hold her too hard, but more loudly she could feel his want of her turning to need like lightening. His other hand curled around behind her knee, and hiked it up, so that she was half lying on top of him. She let go of his shirt, and reached around to the short hair on the side of his head, impulsively running her thumb across the point of his ear. She heard that strange rumbling push past his lips as they broke from hers. She did it again, and he let out a shaking breath as he shoved her onto her back on the couch. Crawling over her, he pressed a desert hot kiss to her neck and scraped his sharp teeth into the curve of her shoulder. She arched into him, and raked her nails up his sides to pull the hem of his shirt over his ribs. He sat back to drag it over his head, tossing it aside, and grasped the top of her arm, pulling her hard up off cushions while the other reached around to undo the zipper on her dress. It was too tight for him to pull off her, so he took the front in both hands, and she pushed against his chest with both of hers.

"Do _not_ tear this dress, Spock. Take me to bed."

She let out a squeak, as he stood and threw her over his shoulder. In short order, she was deposited onto his bed in the dark, the only light coming faintly from the moon in the blinded window. She might have lost her buzz a while ago, but was still feeling rather bold, so she shed her dress and reached out to grab him by his belt loops, yanking him toward her where she sat on the edge of the mattress in her underwear. It was black, and lacey like her dress, and she was extremely grateful that she had let Gaila doll her up for what she thought was nothing. He was running his hands all over her while she undid the clasp on his belt, leaving her skin electrically charged with an impression of his mind everywhere he went. She hooked her hands in the elastic of his boxers and the waistband of his pants, and pulled down as hard as she could while he took the clip from her hair, letting it fall in soft curls around her face. He sat next to her to kick his pants over his feet, and had her bra open in half a second. Nice.

She felt his amusement from his hand on her hip as he pulled her down onto the bed, taking her panties with the movement, and came to hover over her. She covered her laughter in the dip between the pillow and his forearm where it was leaning beside her head.

"Shut up."

"It is a simple… design."

She had wrapped a hand around him, and got a little worried. Aside from the burning heat, he was anatomically human, but her fingers were far from touching. He gasped when she squeezed to see how close she could get them, and let it out roughly when she slid her hand up to let him go. He stole her arm before it could move anywhere else, and slammed it on the bed, but loosened immediately. She could feel him trying to control his strength, steady his breathing, quiet the growling in his chest, but was miserably failing, his hand on her hip bruising, as he shifted to sink an inch into her. She closed her eyes against the feeling, and could sense his concern at the small shocks of pain coming from her. He brushed his lips against hers.

" _Relax."_ He had said it in Vulcan, as if Standard were suddenly too difficult to understand, and she heard a little noise escape from the back of her throat at the whispered word. She shook her head.

"I can't."

His breath was ragged, but he hesitated. He looked as though he were trying to make a decision, but after a moment, he kissed her gently, and pressed a single finger to her temple. She was flooded with a jumbled rush of his words and emotions, and his own mind-numbing sensation of being skin to skin with her like he was. It was blinding, and the pain was gone in an instant. The image was blurry, but she could almost see herself through his eyes, and had never felt so…

 _Beautiful_

She heard it in his voice as clear as if he had spoken it right into her ear, and her back pulled itself off the bed, shoving her head all the way into the pillow. He groaned at the angle, and snapped forward until their hips were flush. She wailed as he picked up a rhythm that she thought might suffocate her with intensity, and she felt the sound sear through his stomach, shattering both of their minds into pieces. He buried his face in her hair, and she turned into his neck, pressing her mouth to anything she could reach. His arm slid off the pillow, accidently bumping her teeth into his collarbone, and through his finger still at her temple, she could feel a desire for something she couldn't name. His thoughts were so cloudy, she couldn't decipher anything in them, but thought she had an idea. It was hard to close her mouth over the noises she couldn't consciously stop making, but she clamped her teeth down hard on his shoulder, and his sharp intake of breath was followed by an overwhelming white heat. Her legs tightened painfully around him as she was ripped from reality in a never ending loop.

She opened her eyes a few minutes later when he pressed a kiss to a spot on her neck that stung like a million hyposprays. He turned them onto their side, pulling her to his chest, and she melted into him, limp and warm. He rubbed circles in her back for a while as she lolled in and out of sleep before he stood out of the bed, and through one cracked eye, she saw him step into a pair of loose pants and head for the kitchen. She used the time he was gone to search in his closet for something to wear to sleep, coming across the softest shirt she'd ever felt, and clean herself up in the bathroom. She had a nasty looking red and purple mark on her neck, and she figured that explained the stinging, but she didn't remember him putting it there. Her collar would cover it, whatever.

She had just opened the blinds and was getting back into bed when he came in with two mugs of tea, and handed one to her as she sat up against the headboard. He climbed in after her, and held her hand between them, and she could feel his intent to apologize before he said it.

"Don't. We can talk about it in the morning. I am not going to let that dumb ass, lady punching motherfucker ruin the best night ever."

"Such language is highly inappropriate in the presence of a superior officer." His voice was dead-pan, but his enjoyment coming plainly through his fingertips was making it pretty hard to take him seriously.

"Oh Commander, how can you ever forgive me?"

He took her mug from her, setting it on his bedside table along with his own. His hand found her ankle under the blanket, and dragged her roughly back down the bed.

"I am uncertain. I regret to inform you that I feel I must take disciplinary action."

She was giggling and kicking while he crawled back over her and pinned her down.

"You literally just made me that tea!"

He silenced her argument rather effectively.


	9. Chapter 9

**M Rated**

Author's note: Hey all! I had a couple reviews I wanted to address. One of them was the question of why Spock had never tried ice cream, considering his mother is human. I always imagined, given that he was born to a high clan as a descendant of Surak, and with a father so publicly involved in politics, that he would be sheltered from certain things that would be normal for a human, but unbecoming for a Vulcan. The second being that there was no way Spock would be the only member of his planet in StarFleet, and I totally get it, just a fuel for some angst.

Anyway, I'm really not a very good writer, and this would probably be less boring as a series of one shots. Lots of little scenes pop into my head throughout my day, I'm just not overly experienced at executing my imagination in a way that comes off as well as it does in my head. Either way, let me know what you think because there's a whole bunch of insight coming up in the next couple chapters that I hope makes sense!

Thanks for reading my first story!

 ***Nyota***

Her alarm was screaming at her when she cracked her eyes open at 0530. She stretched over to the bedside table to crush it until it was quiet again, and grabbed at the edge of the sheet, pulling it over her head. She had two minutes of precious silence before it went off again. Frustrated, she sat all the way up, and through blurry vision she dismissed it, only to find four missed calls and three messages from Gaila. She did not want to deal with that. She dropped it back on the table, wrapped her arms around her knees, and groaned into them. She thought she smelled a jasmine or something, but before she could investigate, a deep voice brought her surroundings back to her in a flash.

"Good morning."

Her head snapped up to settle over Spock sitting cross-legged and shirtless in the corner by the window. She had looked over in time to see a billow of smoke twist in the air around him before he set a lid back on an ornately decorated pot she hadn't noticed the night before.

"Hey. You… were meditating?"

"Yes."

He put out a small candle that was set in the middle of whatever he was in front of, and was on his feet in one fluid motion to sink down next to her on the side of the bed. She had no idea when they had finally fallen asleep, but she ran a hand through her hair, self conscious of how tired she must look with him so close.

"Sorry. I've been telling myself to turn my alarm off now that we're on break, but I... keep f-forgetting… to…"

He was running his hand up her shin, over her knee, down the side of her thigh under the blanket, sending a warm calm straight through to her core. Her morning after nervousness was swept from her mind, and was replaced with a sleepiness so intense, she was almost having trouble breathing. She took his hand, and rolled onto his side of the bed, taking him with her as he tried to move away. Although she could feel his weak protest from his fingers wrapped around hers, he laid his head behind her, and pulled her back into him. His hand was wedged between her face and the pillow, his thumb skimming across her jaw as she drifted with that utterly peaceful feeling still swirling between them.

"Nyota?" No matter how even and quiet, his voice still made her shiver.

"Hmm?"

"It is imperative that I speak with you as soon as possible regarding what has occurred."

"Okay. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. And yet, everything."

That had been quite possibly the most uninformative thing he had ever said to her, so she turned around to face him. Calm was beginning to mix with apprehension from both of them, and she wished he could have pushed this off. Forever.

"What do you mean?"

She had expected him to sit up, but instead had tightened his arms around her, and placed his chin on top of her head. She ran a hand over the back of his shoulder until some of the tension had eased slightly, and waited for him to tell her what had put it there. She could feel him getting irritated in his attempt to form words after a while, but hadn't sensed any regret, so she stilled her hand, and pulled it to his chest. She was about to prompt him again when he finally spoke.

"I do not know what it means to feel what I have been feeling. Our circumstances in regards to our respective positions are far from fortunate, and I do not wish to see our careers ended by a lack of self control. I came very near to strangling a cadet to death when, despite his intention, he had caused you no serious injury. A Vulcan's internal emotions are extremely volatile, and territorial, which is the sole purpose behind the exterior you recognize. Perhaps my time away from the pressures of my ever secluded upbringing have grown me complacent, but believe me when I inform you that this is ill-advised. You are aware that I am a touch telepath, and as it is more than a simple invasion of personal space, I have been careful to avoid it, but when you placed your hands on me outside, I could feel my need for you mirrored through them. Having said that, I still find that I am… concerned that you will come to regret what has happened, where as I do not."

" _That's_ what you're worried about? Spock, I don't care that—" Her comm had started buzzing on the table, but she jerked him back to her when he reached for it, and propped herself up. "Ignore it. I don't care what planet you were born on. I don't care that you can't smile at me. I sure as hell don't care that you reacted violently to someone who's intention _was_ to cause me serious injury. I want—"

Her comm went off again, and she felt like she could throw it hard enough to knock out Space Dock. She clambered over him to rip it off the table.

"What?"

"Nyota, it's Gai. Where are you?"

"Not at home. Not a good time. I'm fine. Call you later."

"Okay, well there's something going on at the student lounge tomorrow night, and Jim and I will be there. So much for being gone, right? I was gonna see if you and Commander Lover Boy wanted to—"

"Yes, whatever it is, yes, but I'm hanging up on you right now."

"Awesome, it starts at 8, I'll see you—"

She snapped her comm shut, and tossed it toward the door. Without a second glance, she straddled him, hooked her arms under his shoulders, and hauled him up to her until their noses bumped lightly together. She could feel his confusion turn forcefully to desire plainly from her hands on his skin. She tried to push it aside, and drill her determination into him, but wasn't sure how. She thought as hard as she could about how much time she spent staring at his graceful fingers, how many nights she sat up dreaming of him, how she had come to realize that she was never truly at ease until she saw him in class, across the quad, surrounded by fellow officers in the conference room, anywhere. She stopped when she felt his breath coming harder against her face.

"I just woke up in _your_ bed. I'm sitting in _your_ lap. I'm wearing _your_ giant shirt, and I don't plan on changing any of that until this break is over. When that happens, I'll still be here every weekend until I graduate. When that happens, I'll be boarding the _Enterprise_ with _you_ to do all of that, all over again. Acceptable?"

"Yes."

"Good. Anything else?"

"There is much I still must make very clear to you in reference to our… biological differences. Vulcans do not simply _date_ , and as I was not taken to Earth often in my childhood, I am unfamiliar with many customs you will inherently expect me to follow. There is no logical explanation for what we are doing, but considering that I am no longer bonded… and at an age when… There are an abundance of complications that I cannot yet ask you to subject yourself to without first conveying the risk of continuing."

"If you're talking about regulation, I have one tattoo, and it isn't 'Spock and Nyota forever' written on my forehead. I don't plan on telling Pike, I don't plan on telling the board, Gaila could probably smell you all over me already, not that she would say anything either, and the bruises I'm sure you left on Cadet Idiot's neck won't be hard to explain in self defense, or whatever it was. We are not the only enlisted pair under the radar, Spock, I can promise you that, as I'm certain where my roommate and your Captain slept last night. We're going to be fine, and weird alien biology aside, I'm not going anywhere. Do you believe me?"

"You cannot know what you are saying."

"Then you'll have to teach me. I'm always eager to learn new things, Commander. If you consider it a lesson in xenosociology, I have, so far, shown a great deal of improvement in _one-on-one_ study."

"I am aware."

It was nothing but a low murmur, and he leaned forward to kiss her, but she pulled away before he could connect. His brows twitched together, and his grip around her waist constricted as he moved toward her again. She squirmed farther back, and smiled at him when he grabbed her jaw, gently bringing her forward. She allowed him to tug her close enough for his eyes to close, but just as she felt the heat of his lips in the millimeter of space she had left, she turned her head and bit the pad of his thumb where it had been pressed into her cheek. Every muscle she could see went slack under her, and his breath was a hot rush across her chest as his head fell forward a bit. She used the opportunity to jump from his lap, and sprint, giggling, to the entrance of the bedroom.

"Computer: lock door."

She had gotten far enough to hear the mechanism click, but froze when his hands slammed on the wall by her head. He'd spoken the command, even and hushed, in Vulcan, and she hadn't even heard him get out of bed until he was snarling in her ear. After spending a moment brushing against that part of him that had suddenly been clamoring for her attention, she turned to face him, but was stopped by a scorching hand pressed between her shoulder blades. She braced herself on the door, and recognized her comm unit by her feet. Bending right over at the waist to grab it had distracted him enough for her to duck under his bicep, and fly no more than two steps away before he wrapped one strong arm around her torso, and flipped her to the floor. She taunted him with a smile, and tried to kick away, but he held her down with his dense weight to take both her hands, and raise them above her head. She was winded with excitement, feeling a little guilty once more for his effort to temper his strength, so she stopped wiggling. That odd, heavy rumbling was coming from somewhere in his chest again as she gave him the calmest voice she could summon from herself with his mouth on her neck.

"Is something wrong, Commander?"

"You have lied to me."

"Have I?"

"You told me that you would stay, and yet you run from me."

He picked up his head, still holding her wrists now in one hand, and shoved his shirt on her up with the other. She hadn't put her underwear back on the night before, and distantly thought that his carpet was very soft.

"I did say that. I must really love disciplinary action."

"You truly must."

He had picked her up off the ground as he said it, and set her down in the middle of his bed. She hadn't even had time to take her shirt off before he had shucked his pants, and was stalking over her, pressing heated kisses to anything uncovered. She pulled at his hair hard enough that she was sure it hurt as he slid into her, batting her face to the side, and growling into the skin behind her ear. She had only heard it just the day before, and it was the most intimidating and beautiful noise she'd ever listened to. She told him as much, mewling at him that he was perfect, and alien, and _hers._ The noise increased in volume so much that it echoed for a second around them, and he tried to silence it, but it was coming with every labored breath, and she thought she could die from the pang it was sending through her stomach. She scratched her nails hard down his back, longing to see those little green lines, to feel his whole body shift with the small pain, and the way she wanted to beg for him hitch in his bass voice. He grabbed the top of her thigh when her legs rose higher around his hips, and her knees shook as they dug into his sides, forcing him along with her and the breath from their lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut, and heard the unmistakable sound of torn fabric by her head before she lost her ability to sense anything in the galaxy.

She immediately missed his warmth when he moved to settle on his back, so she turned to throw her arm around his waist, laying a hand on top of the rapid patter of his heart. He was rubbing his eye while she pet at him, and willed the heaving in their chests to slow, which took her far longer than him somehow. Too soon, he rose with a kiss to her forehead to step into the bathroom, and she curled up under the blanket, listening to him turn on the shower, and debating whether or not it would make sense to go back to sleep. It was early enough, but she didn't want him to be bored, so she stood up, still wearing his t-shirt, and picked her comm up off the floor. She typed out a quick apology to Gaila for her snippy attitude, and let her know that she would be at the student lounge tomorrow. She had seen officers and professors at those sorts of things before under the guise of supervising for free beer, but wasn't sure if this would be similar on break. She really didn't want to go if he didn't, but figured it would be best that they kept their distance in public, which would be a true undertaking now that she knew what was under his uniform.

With that thought, she walked out of the room to find the replicator in the kitchen, and ordered herself a new uniform of her own. She had had to program her measurements from the database, but after a few minutes, a clean, red cadets dress formulated inside. She came back into the bedroom to find Spock, damp haired and fully clothed, inspecting a hole in the sheets, just visible under the pillow.

"Is it bad?"

"It is fortunate that it is replaceable."

"Do you have another set?"

"You misunderstand." He came around the bed to loom directly over her, so that she felt as though she would take a step back to comfortably look up at him if her feet weren't stuck by his unusually aggressive tone. "I am able to simply throw this away without a thought to its worth. It does not require repair, nor, under other circumstance, any guilt over the need for it. Had this been your arm, however, my distress would be undoing. It is not difficult to forget our comparative levels of strength when I am distracted, which I have been often as of late. I have been exhibiting behaviors that are in line with… a shameful affliction… that I am at an age... to be—"

"Spock," She took his hands, and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to speak again until he followed. "This is the second time you've mentioned that today. You're never this inarticulate, so I figured you just didn't want to talk about it before, but I'm worried now. What's going on?"

He looked toward the door for a long moment, but met her eyes when she ducked her head to get his attention. "I will tell you of this when it becomes necessary, which I imagine will be quite soon. Do you still wish to spend the remainder of the break here?"

"I do. I sort of volunteered us for something going on at the student lounge tomorrow, though. I've seen officers there before, but I just kind of assumed they were only there to pretend to supervise while they got drunk. Will anyone be there since we're not technically on Academy time?"

"The time is irrelevant. For alcohol to be served on the grounds, it must be an approved Academy function, and there will be an officer for every ten students present. My own presence is generally requested at these sorts of events, but I was not aware of it."

"Yeah, I can imagine if anyone is going to keep students under control, it's the presence of a scary Vulcan. Maybe you can get Captain Pike to go."

"Perhaps I will suggest it. Is there anything you wish for me to acquire that will make your stay with me more comfortable?"

"No, that's okay. I'm going to head back to the dorm to shower, and grab some stuff anyway. You should pick up breakfast while I'm gone. I'm starving to death."

His eyebrow hit the roof with that, but, having been given a task, he rose from the bed with a nod. "I will return shortly."

She waited until she heard the front door hiss closed to strip out of his t-shirt, and toss it in the refresher. She put her hair back up in his bathroom after donning her uniform, smoothing any wrinkles, and ran her fingers under her eyes to remove the smudges of her makeup she hadn't had a chance to wipe off the night before. She searched around for a few minutes in an attempt to find an extra pair of sheets, and eventually came to find a soft, navy blue set in a small storage closet just off the dining room. Upon replacing the old one, and throwing it in his trash can, she headed for the door only to realize that the only pair of shoes she had were the ones she wore to the bar. She could carry them, but that would look extremely odd. She could just not bring them at all, which would be even worse. She didn't remember the code to replicate a new pair of regulation boots, and they almost always came out too small when she tried, so she slipped the ones she had on with a shrug. They weren't overly fancy, just a simple black, closed toed heel. They were a little tall to be inconspicuous, but, as it was barely 0700, and on a break at that, she figured no one would be out to see her in them. She took one more glance around before stepping out of the apartment, listening to the door lock behind her, and came into view of the tree her cocky attacker had stumbled into. Her shoes clicked to a halt.

What was she thinking?

He was a commissioned officer, a tenured professor, a _Vulcan_ , and she was just a student. Just some human _girl._ She forced her legs to move her as fast as they could to the student building. She didn't live here. This wasn't her life. This wasn't the future she pictured. This wasn't even her real uniform, and now she was on her way back to all those familiar things to stuff a weeks worth of them into a bag after a walk of shame on a beautiful morning without any real plan for it other than being with _him._ What could he possibly see in her? He had been somewhat impressed after a while at her extensive talent for learning foreign languages, he had told her that she was 'a very capable aid' to him in his classes when she'd finally been able to prove herself to be that, when he pressed his finger against her temple, she had felt from him that she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, but she was intensely emotional. Her temper had gotten her roughly dismissed by him, and others, on numerous occasions. His own father was displeased by his answer to a simple question of what he thought of her as his assistant, and he had seemed disappointed in himself in the face of it. He had even said that there was no logical explanation for what he was doing with her, so what was the point? He'd mentioned his former bond mate, and something about his age, but he had severed that connection himself as the 'most logical course of action.' With all her human faults, she couldn't possibly be the most logical alternative. This had been everything her mother had warned her about when she enlisted.

She entered the cadet housing, and rode the turbo lift up to her floor, her heart sinking with every step to her empty room. She would be nothing but a passing fill of curiosity to him when this break was over, she was sure. She threw her shoes in the closet, and peeled off her uniform to step into the shower, uncaring of the mess her roommate had left on the countertops. She tried not to think so morbidly of him as the scalding water passed over her, but her indignation was shifting to sadness as she stood under it. Scrubbing her face, and washing her hair had only served to clear her mind momentarily, and by the time she grabbed a towel to step out, she was thinking of his hands again. He had only ever wanted to be gentle with her, but now she had seen pure anger. He had made her feel safe, and happy in a way she had never been, but had told her that Vulcans don't just _date_. He had shown her, and told her of _feelings_ she was certain he only allowed a very select few to know he had at all, but how could she be certain that they were only meant for her? She doubted very much that any other person on this planet had ever spent so much time in his office, in his apartment, in his mind, and her thoughts had twisted his intentions into something cruel, and perverted. He wasn't those things.

He wasn't those things.

He was brave, and intelligent, and moral. He had wanted to apologize for his strange behavior, and _she_ had stopped him. He didn't regret what had happened, and it wasn't because he can't change the past, she had felt it, but because he wanted her as much as she wanted him. His need mirrored in her. She dried herself off quickly, brushed her teeth, and ran a comb through her hair. She grabbed both things, tossed them into a bag along with her shampoo, and half ran to her dresser to rip whatever her hands touched out of the drawers. She didn't care. She was beautiful to him.

She put the uniform she was wearing back on, and pulled her boots over her feet. Holding a PADD for appearances, she hiked the bag over her shoulder, and walked out to the lift. There were things they needed to discuss with each other, he had definitely made that very clear, and they would get to them in time because they had time. Plenty of it. Together.

She was prepared to tell him how she had been feeling when she came to stand at his door again, but had found a folded note sticking out of the touch plate with her name written in Vulcan on the front. He knew she was the only one that would come to his entrance that could read it, so she plucked it up with a little smile, and flipped it open.

 _Nyota,_

 _I apologize. Captain Pike has called me away to discuss a matter of apparent importance. Your breakfast is on the table, and I have set the touch plate to be programmed for your signature. Simply tap it, and it will prompt you. As I said, I will return shortly._

 _Spock_

She wondered what that was about, and why he hadn't just called her, but she shoved the note into a pocket on her bag, and tapped the plate, which opened to a bright welcome screen. It was the same system as the one to her dorm, so after a few steps, and a quick scan of her palm, it triggered open to allow her inside. She unzipped her boots, walked straight into his bedroom to set her bag down with her PADD, and came back out to find a bag with a little sandwich from her favorite bagel shop inside. She had bought breakfast from the place for them both, just once, on her way to the office, and was surprised, and yet not, that he had remembered it. She felt more than a bit out of place alone at his table, but was truly starving, and finished her sandwich in record time.

Unsure of what to do, she went to his bedroom again, swinging her feet as they hung off the edge of the mattress, and sent him a message that she was waiting for him. He generally replied to his messages within ten seconds, but after a minute or two, she figured he was busy, and let herself fall back onto the bed with a bounce. His blanket was as soft as his carpet, and smelled like his shirt on her, so she curled up sideways, turning her face into it, and day dreaming of what was in store. He would find her when he came home, and she would find out, once and for all, what he wanted for them, if she had a place in his future. She wanted that more than anything. She loved him.


	10. Chapter 10

***Spock***

By the time he had arrived at the shop to pick up her breakfast, he had lost his own appetite entirely. The walk back had been quiet, given that it was still comparatively early, but his thoughts were deafening. He entered his apartment, having only left it 31 minutes previously, to find that she had vacated it already, and yet her scent assaulted him. Clung to him. His guilt flared, as he dropped the bag onto the table, and himself into a chair. How could he have done this to her?

He had acted in great violence, and she had given him comfort that he should not have wanted. He had taken her body, again and again, and she had given him trust that he did not deserve. That base, ancient feeling of male rivalry had been a near compulsion to remove her from danger with such force that it could have easily triggered him into fever _,_ but this was not that. This was simple, _human_ weakness. She had been intoxicated, and he simply weak at the sight of her. He felt her attraction to him strongly when her mind had been clouded by alcohol, but when she had told him that morning definitively that he was hers, how could he be certain, with his hands on her skin, that his feelings weren't manipulating her own? His bonding had been a mere formality, and he had never experienced such wrenching feelings for T'Pring. Her only true purpose in his regard was to guide him through _pon farr,_ and she had abandoned him to spurn it in meditation, alone. He had had to be transported to the Vulcan Embassy, where it had taken him days to recover, but he could not ask Nyota to take her place. A beautiful, talented, fragile young woman, who, through no fault of her own, knew so little of what it would mean to be a part of his future. He had no right to have so claimed her, and yet he still felt as though he could not let her go. She would find another if he did, he was sure. Someone who could care for her emotionally in a way that he would forever be unequipped to do. A man whose child she could carry without constant risk to her life. A _human_ that would not be a perpetual source of xenophobic judgement upon her. Another.

He felt sick as the thought squeezed his heart, but hardly had time to breath through it before his comm was ringing priority. He attempted to calm himself before he reached for it, and with what he felt was a sufficient mastery of his voice at the very least, he flipped it open.

"Yes Captain?"

"Spock, where the hell are you?"

"I am at home."

"Well I'm in your office, and I'm amazed you're not working on break at this ungodly hour. I got a message from the Dean this morning that one of your students dropped out of the Academy after he claimed you beat him up last night. Now, the only evidence we have that you two were in the same room together is the security footage outside the bar, and that only shows him leaving with Cadet Uhura. That right there tells me that something is going on, and it took a hell of a lot of convincing for the school board to let me handle this, so get your First Officer ass over here on the double."

"Yes Captain."

"I mean it, Spock. Hurry up. Pike out."

Although he had not expected it to be so soon, he was not surprised by the subject of the meeting. He was overwhelmingly grateful that they had allowed Captain Pike to mediate it, rather than the Dean, or any other fellow officer who was not already aware of his feelings toward his assistant. He stood, and opened a small drawer on the side table next to his couch to grab the paper pad he left there. He knew it was not uncommon for the admiralty to monitor outgoing message frequencies during an investigation, so he wrote her a short note that he would be away. Stepping out the door, he placed it in a slot on the touch plate, and queued it to be set for her palm scan before starting down the still empty path toward campus. He would have to further delay his increasingly urgent need to speak with her.

Quite unnecessarily, he played the memory of the previous evening again in his head as he walked. He had indeed been overly rough with the boy, Cadet Eric Jameson he was called, but had not, he believed, caused any lasting damage. His grip had been bruising, to be sure, and he was uncertain if the cadet had understood what he had said, as his words had been extraordinarily accented. Although his father had told his mother that she should generally only speak Vulcan to her son at home, he had been taught to speak fluent Standard during his schooling, and had not done so with such Vulcan inflection in approximately 22 years. It was strange to have heard it again in his eidetic memory, but he was skeptical that it would have been mentioned to the board at all. On the other hand, he assumed that his own report would not be sufficient to close the investigation, and that the captain would need to speak with Nyota in equal haste. He would make every attempt to keep her from this, considering she had not sustained any bruising of her own, and also given that the cadet in question was no longer her peer at the Academy, but was doubtful of his ability to succeed in that endeavor. Even he was not aware of the nature of the attack, though he had figured it was due to his decision to move him to a more remedial class, and Nyota had not yet told him the extent of what had happened between the time she left the bar, and the moment he came upon them. He had only recently been occupying his room in the complex, but had seen no security cameras in the immediate area that would have this information recorded.

He wondered at this as he rode the turbo lift up to his office, and took a calming breath as he triggered the door to find Captain Pike spinning in semi circles in the rolling chair behind his desk. He stood as soon as he came into view, and addressed him in a rush.

"About damn time, Spock. Here's what we got. Before I called you, we only had the video from her with him outside the bar, and that only really showed their backs until they turned the corner, and that was as far as the camera went. Now, they've sent me the video from inside the bar that shows you with me, Cadet Jameson confronting Uhura on the dance floor, he leaves ahead of her out the front, and she follows him after alerting you. Obviously, outside picks up from there. There's only one more piece we have from a coffee shop between the bar, and your complex, that shows them headed in that direction, and everything else is word of mouth. Since all those show you going after her, we need your report on what happened past the camera. Did they go to your apartment?"

"They did."

"How did you find them?"

"She had been… wearing a perfume that—"

"Got it. Did you see him attack her? The kid didn't mention anything about her other than that he wanted to talk to her, but I know you, and that doesn't add up with me."

"I did not, though you are correct. I heard her scream when I was five meters out of sight, and found Cadet Jameson to be bent over in a way that would suggest she had retaliated. I held him in custody, so to speak, but he ran in the direction they had both come, as I turned to tend to Cadet Uhura. I am rather curious as to why the schoolboard is handling this accusation, considering the attack occurred off campus."

"All three of you are, or were, members of StarFleet, they like to keep these things internal. Wait a minute, he _ran?_ You just let him go?"

With that, he paused, and crossed to seat himself in the chair opposite the one Captain Pike had vacated. He could not lie on an official report, and could not, at that moment, find a technicality suited to his account. He folded his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting.

"Captain, you are aware of the regard in which I hold my assistant, and I imagine you have surmised that I was, perhaps, a bit overzealous in my dismissal of the cadet. However, I am reasonably sure that I have caused him no long term injury."

"They said there wasn't a mark on him." He sighed, and rubbed his forehead before he resumed his seat across from him. "I've been back on this planet for one day, and you better be glad they gave this to me, Spock."

It seemed he had been more careful than he had consciously realized. He was pleased by this, but just as he was about to reply that he was, in fact, rather glad that they had entrusted him with this detail, his comm blinked with a message that she had returned to his apartment. It reminded him how intensely he wished to shelter her from this, with the possibility of monitoring, and her reputation in the balance.

"As Cadet Jameson has already been reprimanded for his unwarranted aggression in her reference, I believe she will not press charges now that he has resigned himself from the Academy. I do not wish for her to recount such a distressing experience to the board."

"I don't think there's any way around that. They're going to want to send her to medical just for the file, but she could probably get away with a written report if she really doesn't want to press charges. It sounds like what I told them. That he took her from the bar to knock her out, and you found them before he could, but like you said, you don't know what happened between then, and neither do I. I have to have that report within 48 hours, Commander, or you'll both end up in front of the panel."

"I am aware of the regulation."

"Then why, may I ask, have you not already sent one in? Been a little… preoccupied, have we?"

He was again quite shocked by how openly he was willing to discuss a breach in the code of ethics, but he had himself been the transgressor in this particular instance, so he raised a brow, and regarded him carefully.

"Chris, I would remind you of the importance of remaining—"

"I'm joking, Spock. In all seriousness, I need you to make sure Cadet Uhura gets to medical _today,_ and both of you need to send me those reports no later than _tomorrow._ They told me about what happened in the sparring match though, and it made them pretty skeptical about his side of things, so it shouldn't be hard for me to get you two out of this."

"It will not go unappreciated, if you are able."

"Any time. Well, I guess that's all for now then, but don't be surprised if the board still wants to see you. Go on, dismissed."

"Captain." He gave him one quick nod, and stood, turning on his heel toward the door, but stopped when it opened to allow his exit. He turned again to face him. "Captain, I wonder if I might inquire as to your plans for tomorrow evening."

His eyebrows shot up, but he shook his head. "I don't have anything going on. Why?"

"There is an event occurring in the student lounge tomorrow evening that had not been brought to my attention until early this morning. It will require the supervision of what I imagine will be a minimum of three officers, and I had thought to ask if you—"

"Are you about to ask me out, Spock?"

"I was merely attempting to ascertain whether or not you would be in attendance."

"I'll go with you if you tell me exactly how you came to be aware of this event so _early_ this morning." His tone led him to think that he had made a mistake in his openness at The Malfunction. He could only hope his friend's teasing would remain in the confines of privacy, but his smile only widened when he straightened his back, and clasped his hands behind it.

"I believe I was dismissed, Captain."

"As you were."

He heard the door slide shut on his laughter as he entered the waiting lift, and contemplated replying to Nyota's message to alert her that he was on his way there. It would be overly redundant, as he had written on the note that he would return shortly, but he pulled his comm unit out of his pocket anyway. He typed out a general missive that he was on his way, as he came through the exit of the building, feeling rather agitated that he would have to put off such an important conversation a second time to accompany her to the medical center for injuries she had not sustained. She would have to explain why she was there, which was what he had intended to avoid, as it would most assuredly cause her unneeded stress. Her comfort had swiftly become his priority, and he felt his previous guilt well up in him again. He wanted more than anything to be a source of comfort to her, and he had only truly managed to worry her with his inability to openly speak on certain subjects. With their relationship being acted upon so swiftly, he did not think that she was ready to hear them, but he could not allow her to continue without a knowledge of the Vulcan way. If she were to be frightened by it, he would have to let her go. If she were not, he would know, beyond question, what she needed to be happy and comfortable, and if the answer was him, if he could _feel_ the truth of those words from her, he would center his entire life around the realization of it. There would be no force in the universe that could sever her from him. He was suddenly having difficulty concentrating. One moment, he was simply walking, the next, he was almost struggling slightly to stay upright. His lungs were tightening on every heavy step closer to home with an acute need to be within touching distance of her.

As though compelled, he stepped up to his door, and found his note missing, the touch plate reprogrammed, and the faint smell of her shampoo around him. He was, once again, hit with a wall of that scent as he came inside to drop his shoes by the hook that still held the bags she had carried just two days previously. He noticed her own regulation boots near by, and her breakfast missing from the table, but could not hear any movement inside. When he closed his eyes, he could hear her steady breathing from the bedroom, and as if a tether were tied to his waist, he was pulled to the sound. It was a feeling much like floating, his feet moving without conscious thought, images of them together flitting through his mind, as the last sheet of material separating them slid open.

She was sleeping curled up on her side, her long hair pooled around her, her hand by her face, and he was arrested by how young she looked, how little space she took on his bed. His legs moved him to stand at the edge of it, and he reached to press his fingers into the palm of her impossibly small hand. Blurry pictures of himself through her eyes flashed behind his own, and that dire need to be in her presence faded with them. He had sensed her dreaming of him. Their connection was far more deeply rooted than he thought plausible. He was standing in lecture on her first day of class, her confusing, dreadful longing twisting in his stomach, as he experienced in her perspective the way his voice had affected her. As if in a blink, a memory came to focus of him seated at her console, and he viewed his alien features through her. For the first time since his relocation to Earth, he suddenly felt that they did not make him so negatively different, but the opposite. She thought them to be beautiful. The image of his bright lab turned to darkness as he felt his teeth clenched in the skin at her shoulder. _Beautiful._ He jerked his hand away, and his eyes came back to present. Her collar had covered it, but it had shifted with her position, an angry bruise just barely visible under the fabric of her uniform. It was worse than it had been the night before, and he had a strange desire to run his tongue over that purple spot. She was not his to mark, yet the sight of it stole his breath. He left the room, leaning his back against the wall at the entrance of his kitchen as soon as the door had shut.

He was not feeling residual pain, or sadness from her, but something else that was so extreme, he felt his parents plucking at their familial bond to him while his control waivered outside of his bedroom. He closed the link, and thought of folding himself to the ground in meditation where he stood, until he had heard her muffled voice through the door, fabric shifting on his bed.

"Spock?" He squeezed his eyes shut before he could smooth his expression, his hands tingling at his sides, over oxygenated by his rapid breath, as tiny footsteps came towards him. She appeared in the archway, and he saw her brows pull together. "Are you alright?"

"I am uncertain."

It had taken him a moment to respond, and he could not force himself to move from where he was to take a step in her direction. She took those steps in his place, wrapping her slender arms around him, her breath cooling his heated skin. Something was wrong with him.

"I really need to talk to you. Where were you?" She whispered into his neck, and his head dropped to her shoulder. _Weak._ There was no other word.

"I was… with Captain Pike… in our office. I am required to accompany you to the medical center, and we must submit a report on the events of—"

She had stood on her toes to kiss the point of his ear, and he shuddered with the sensation it sent through him. His hand came up between them to push against her chest, walking her back to the wall opposite the one he had been leaning on.

"Can it wait? Can we please just go later?"

"We cannot." He had said, but his knees bent to hoist her up to his height, while his mind shouted at him to put her down.

She set their foreheads together, her hands tugging at his hair, and he closed his eyes so she wouldn't see in them how much he wished to give in to her. She could feel his dueling intentions, he knew, but he did not notice any alarm in her over them, as he had feared. He shook slightly, so tightly wound, when her lips met with his, and his fingers twitched with the urge to press into her face.

He put her on her feet, and backed away, holding her at arms length as she stumbled a bit before his subconscious could convince him to create a tie that would require a healer to free them from. Her eyes were wide with shock, but softened soon after to understanding.

"I actually do need to go to medical?"

"Yes."

"Is this about what happened last night?"

"Yes."

"Are you in trouble?"

"I do not believe so."

"But you're not sure?"

"Definitively, no, but I imagine his story was far from accurate, and I believe they will find me within my bounds. Captain Pike is officiating the investigation, and will be required to present a medical report from you, and an incident report from us both."

"Shit." She sighed at him, and reached up to kiss his flushed cheek, already moving toward the door to pull her boots on as he trailed behind her. "I guess I'll just go now then."

"I will—"

"No." She straightened to turn to him, and pointed at the spot on her shoulder that had been grasping at his splintered attention since he had first noticed its existence. "I'm going to have to figure out a way to explain this, and I'd rather not have you standing there waiting to give a perfect match of your Vulcan teeth for it."

He ran his fingers over what he could see sticking out of her collar. "I have been meaning to apologize for giving you this."

"I like it." She shrugged, and started to turn away from him again, but his hand gripped her shoulder.

"This mark… is more than just… On Vulcan, it is a way of showing that you are romantically unavailable, and I did not intend to unduly imply that you are exclusively—"

"Spock. I _am_ unavailable. I have been since your first lecture, and people don't need to know who put this here to know that my _availability_ is never going to change again. Now, I'm going to go to the medical center, and then I'm going to come back here, and then we're going to do nothing, together, all day."

"With the exception of writing the reports—"

"Reports, yes."

She triggered the door open, stepping outside to face him in the entryway, and although her logic was sound, he wished he could accompany her.

"Please hurry back. There is something I must explain to you as soon as possible."

"I'll do my best." She said, as she took his hands, and raised herself up as high as she could get to his eye level. "We're going to be fine. We just need to be patient, which we suck at so far, but we won't have to hide forever. I can feel you worrying about some secret you need to tell me, but it doesn't matter what it is because I'll still be here as long as you'll keep me. I'll be back soon, Spock."

After spending a moment watching her hair swing behind her, he let the door slide closed, and crossed back to his bedroom. He sat in front of his newly lit firepot, and simply listened to his respiration and heart rate return to normal, as thin clouds of aromatic smoke began to escape from under the lid. She was right. They would not be required to remain secretive interminably, and if anyone should find patience a virtue, it would be a Vulcan man. However, being that, it was extremely difficult for him to share such private information, no matter the import of doing so. He had always known Nyota to be an intuitive woman, and now also knew her to be exceptionally sensitive to the emotions she received from him telepathically. She was aware of his concern, and had even been able to differentiate from the temporary link through their hands that he was not hiding something, but rather waiting for the right moment to tell her. There was much he needed to tell her.

His eyes blinked open, as a thought occurred to him. She was, indeed, unusually psi receptive. He may not need to _tell_ her at all. He had been able to hear full sentences within her mind when she had been only mildly intoxicated, but when he had pressed a finger to just one point at her temple, it had taken no small amount of concentration from himself to send a single word to her. Without a full meld, conversation would be almost entirely one sided, where as strong feelings would come through clearly from both. Perhaps the disinhibiting nature of the alcohol she consumed had, in some way, softened a mental barrier he could not generally break with simple contact. Although he had been attempting to distance certain feelings from her then, if she were consenting now, he believed he was practiced enough to keep himself at her surface thoughts for a beneficial experiment. He could not allow her feelings to grow any further until she truly knew the potential significance of his recent struggle for emotional control. He closed his eyes again, and scanned the gallery-like view of his memory, plucking pieces from anything and everything he needed her to understand about the most elusive aspect of his culture. He would have to wait until that evening to show them to her. With a suitable library of feelings and images stored away, he pulled out his comm, and sent her an encrypted message to call him the moment she left the medical center.

He would need to make a trip.


	11. Chapter 11

***Spock***

His meditation had been so successful that it had taken him a while to carefully raise himself back up through the layers of his consciousness without becoming dizzy, and yet, within an hour, he had grown rather impatient with Nyota's absence. Upon relocating to his couch, he uploaded the report template onto the home screen of the PADD she had brought with her, and completed his own, having sent it over to Captain Pike the moment it was done. He was half way through a documentary on Terran deep sea exploration when she nearly tripped through his door. She ran to stop in front of him as he stood, and was noticeably out of breath.

"I talked to the Dean. She came to the medical center as soon as I was checked in, and asked me a million questions about how I was doing as your TA, and what I was doing for the break, and where I was going after I left the doctor, and who I was—"

"Nyota. Take a breath, please." She did, then another, and he guided her by the tops of her shoulders to sit next to him on the edge of the couch after she had calmed some. "What has happened?"

"Nothing, really. She asked me how I liked my job with you, and I told her that I did, very much. She joked about how much work she thought you had given me, and I told her you didn't. She asked me what _we_ were doing over the break, and I told her that _I_ didn't have any specific plans, but she pressed me about where I was going when Dr. McCoy finished the exam, so I told her I was meeting up with you because that's not that weird. I didn't want to lie, she knows you're my boss, and that you were my advisor last year, so it's hardly strange to see us together."

"I suppose not. I assume you did not tell her that you had been here?"

"No, of course not."

"Did she ask you about the events of last night?"

"Yeah, I don't even need to write my report anymore, she recorded it. Everything else was about you."

"She did not seem upset?"

"No, that's the thing. She was teasing me about it. Spock, I'm certain she knows, or at least has an idea. She even asked me, when we were standing outside, if I had already taken Vulcan III, and Interspecies Ethics, which are obviously the only two classes you're teaching other than the one I'm working for you under. She said that that was good, and that _it_ won't matter when I earn my commission."

"It?"

"It. Us. Did you tell anyone about… what we've been up to?"

"Captain Pike is aware of my feelings for you, but is not technically aware that I have acted on them, though I am quite sure that he has made his own assumptions on the subject. He had an equally light response to such a clear break in regulation."

"When did you tell him?"

"Last night at The Malfunction. I believe he thought us to already be together, but I highly doubt he would have been the one to inform the Dean of what I shared with him."

"No, I don't think so either. Wow, this is _not_ how I expected this break to turn out." She dropped herself back onto the cushions, slumping into them, and stared thoughtfully for a while at the schools of fish swimming across the holovid still playing in the background. She shook her head as if to clear it, and turned back to him. "Sorry I didn't call you, by the way. Did you need something?"

"Yes. I planned to make a trip to the store, and had thought to ask you the name of the whiskey you were drinking in the bar."

"I'm… not sure. Wait, really? I thought you didn't like it."

"I did not particularly care for it, but I wished to ask your consent to a personal experiment."

"Personal?"

"As in, not solely scientific, although I imagine it will be as enlightening. I have never been in a state of inebriation, as is the case with most Vulcans, and it may very well serve—"

"Oh my God." She jumped from the couch, wide-eyed. "You want me to get you drunk, don't you?"

"I cannot get drunk. Rather, I mean that alcohol does not make me so."

"But that would lead me to think that something else does. Yes?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"Chocolate. I believe this is due to the sheer amount of common table sugar present in it. It is poorly metabolized, and has a similar effect."

"You're lying. No, Vulcans don't lie. Oh my God! That's amazing! But… why do you want to?"

He took her hands, and moved her back to his side, allowing his studied calm to bleed through them into her. Her eyes fluttered as he pushed the importance of his plans for that evening toward the part of her mind he most wanted to fully enter, but could not, it would seem, without slightly impairing it. He was able to mentally tap it, in a way, and could sense his own emotions in her when he did, although he could not hear any intelligible words. She laid her head on his lap, and he pressed his finger to her temple, which brought to focus some exhaustion from her that was not present before, but was otherwise not much more effective.

"This," He tapped it lightly again, and she winced. "Is the part of your mind that allows you to clearly understand my thoughts, and I yours. With such a temporary link, I generally cannot access it sufficiently enough to hear them from you, but was able to discern full sentences through the contact when you were intoxicated. Alcohol, as you are well aware, is disinhibiting, and should I be adequately impaired by something equivalent, I believe it will help me to simply showyou what it is I must tell you. This thing will not be something you will learn in class, Nyota, and it will not be limited to a single occurrence."

"So you'll need to drink, or… whatever, every time you want to show me your thoughts?"

"Not necessarily, no. What you are feeling now will dissipate immediately once I take my hand away. Through a full meld, you would be able to hear me under any circumstance, but it has the potential to form a permanent attachment, which can be very painful to remove. I cannot allow you to make me a promise that you do not know the danger in keeping."

"Spock, I can almost guarantee you that there's nothing in this world dangerous enough to change my feelings for you, but whatever it is, I know it's important, so… let's do it. What do you need?"

He drew in a breath to answer her when his comm rang before he could voice it. He pulled it from his pocket, and flipped it open, as she picked her head up from his thigh, and was not surprised to see the identification, but again, had not expected it to be so soon.

"Dean Scott. How may I assist you?" He heard her give a sharp gasp, her hand flying to her throat, and he sent her a pointed look to keep her quiet.

"Commander, I wonder if you have a few minutes to see me in my office today."

"I do."

"Good, come on down. No need for uniform, it won't take long. Scott out."

He shut the device, and stood to pull his boots on, but had not taken more than a step before she began.

"What did she say?"

"She has asked me to meet her at her office."

"Did she say what she wanted to talk about? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have told her I was going to be with you."

"It is of no consequence. I have served with Admiral Scott, and, as she was apparently rather playful with you at the medical center, I am not overly concerned."

"But she _knows,_ I know she does, and I really don't want either one of us to have to—"

"Nyota," He placed his hands on her face, standing in the now open doorway, and felt her breath as she sighed. "There is no need for such distress. I will speak with the Dean, and I will be back to do whatever it is you wish to do until this evening."

"And then we're going to get drunk, right?"

"If you are amenable."

"I am. Actually, I'll just go to the store while you're gone, and pick up some stuff. Whiskey and chocolate bars, what a wonderful combo."

"I think I would prefer to drink it."

"Whiskey and… I don't know, I'll figure it out."

"You are certain you wish to participate?"

"Yes. It'll be fun. Go." She huffed out a laugh, and pushed him bodily off the doorstep with a little wave before it closed behind her.

Once he had entered the Academy building for a second time that day, he took the stairs to allow himself to ease the small amount of anxiety he had garnered on the way. He considered Admiral Scott's company to be familiar, if not entirely comfortable, but had no doubt as to what she wished to speak of. He would not lie, and though there were a great number of technicalities he could choose from in regards to his relationship, he almost felt as though he wanted her to know. It was not as if he would be in a similar predicament next year, or ten years after. It was widely known that his race, with worthy exception, had only one bond mate until death, and beyond. Nyota would be the only woman in his romantic life for the rest of it. He came to stand at the Deans office entrance, pressed the ringer on the touch plate, and entered as it buzzed open. She seemed to have been busy, and addressed him half-heartedly from behind her desk, shuffling the items scattered on it.

"Hey, Spock. Grab a seat." She pointed to the chair across from her, and he took it as she pulled a PADD from underneath a small holographic projector. "Here it is, I knew I just had it. Okay. Commander, as you know, you have been accused of assault on one Cadet Jameson, Eric D. I personally found that very hard to believe, so I would very much like to wrap this up as soon as possible. Sound good?"

"That is my wish as well, Admiral."

"Alright then. Now, I have here an incident report regarding the misuse of force by this cadet during a practice sparring match three weeks ago. This was against your assistant, correct?"

"Yes."

"Great. Cadet Jameson didn't mention this at all when he barged into my office first thing this morning, and now that I'm aware of it, his story makes even less sense. He informed me that he had taken Cadet Uhura on a little walk from the bar to speak with her about getting dropped from your class, which, upon reviewing his grade sheet, is a decision I support. He told me you found them simply talking, 'got jealous, or something,' snuck up on him, and practically choked him to death for no particular reason. There was no indication of this, as he refused medical treatment, and the security footage doesn't go that far, so all I need you to do is confirm for me that this is not entirely true."

"That is most certainly not an accurate description of what had transpired."

"I figured as much. Well, I've reviewed your report, I've spoken with Cadet Uhura, who does _not_ want to press charges, Cadet Jameson dropped out of the Academy once we tried to ask him a few follow up questions, and finally given that Captain Pike finds this whole thing about as ridiculous as I do, I'm considering you cleared, case closed. I'll forward the details of Uhura's medical exam to the good Captain this afternoon to do all of the filing, since he apparently wanted to handle it so bad."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"Just doing my job. _That being said,_ onto the next issue." He raised a brow at her, as apprehension flashed through his stomach, but she sighed, and leaned back into her chair. "I've been monitoring your message frequency, Spock. You know I had to. Just answer me one question officially, and I won't press you about it. Did she stay at your apartment last night?"

The question had been purposefully direct, and he was not able to give her a half truth. His mind was a mix of his want to scream that she was his, to brand his name into her so that anyone who looked would know it, and his need to keep their private lives hidden for the sake of their reputation. There was no way to succeed in both. He could not lie. He crossed his legs, and steepled his fingers.

"Yes, she did."

She nodded. "That's what I thought. Look, Spock, we have some bright students at this school, and some talented officers in the fleet, but we've never had anyone quite like you. Captain Pike and I have a lot in common when it comes to your well being, but you're not the kid we met anymore, so… off the record, seriously, what's going on with you?"

"I do not take your meaning."

"Come on. We've had to get onto you during nearly every tour we've sent you on for anti-social behavior. Now, I know that your culture is not just some switch you can turn on and off, which is why I'm asking. As far as I've heard, you've been spending a lot of time with your TA, and you don't just _hang out_ with people, so what's with the change of heart?"

"I assure you, Admiral, my heart is functioning optimally, and has not been revised."

"Spock—"

"As for my recent behavior in regards to my teaching assistant, I will admit that I have been feeling rather conflicted."

"Do you love her?"

His eyes snapped up to meet with hers, and he found a very womanly expression behind them. He generally appreciated bluntness, but in this instance, he was taken aback by it. He took a breath, and looked at his hands in his lap.

"I… do not know. I was not raised to understand the feeling in this context, but… I cannot imagine my future without her in it."

She sighed at him, but smiled as she leaned forward. "Have you told anyone?"

"Captain Pike is somewhat aware."

"With you, he hardly counts. Has she told anyone?"

"No."

"Keep it that way until she graduates, and so will I. I'm proud of you, Spock. Dismissed."

"Admiral?"

"Dismissed."

He stood from the chair, but watched her for a moment, more than a bit confused, while she typed away on the PADD she was holding before he turned to exit her office. He attempted to keep his mind clear, as he made the short walk back to his apartment, so that he could meditate properly on the subject, but his thoughts were replaying it. Love. He did not believe he had ever told his mother he loved her, though he was sure she knew through their bond that this was the case. He knew his father loved him, despite his silence, as it was not inappropriate to feel this for ones children, although pride, and disappointment alike certainly were. He knew that he had never felt love for T'Pring, nor she for him, but could not, with certainty, place the word as an accurate descriptor for the way Nyota made him _feel._ He had, indeed, been feeling. In the perspective of his people, he had been _failing,_ and could not find it within himself to simply do as he had been taught all his life. To control, and deny. He was beginning to think his time would come upon him much differently than his first.

He entered his apartment to the smell of alcohol burning in his nose, and a loud crash followed by a choice word from her in his kitchen, as something metal clattered onto the tile. Dropping his boots next to hers, he inspected a selection of bottles sitting on his table, and found most of them to be at varying levels of emptiness with the exception of one brown one still in the bag she brought it in. He picked it up, and read the label, almost disbelieving of the immense amount of sugar in what he knew to be a chocolate syrup. He placed it back on the surface in time to see her come around the corner with an incredibly high-pitched noise, barely avoiding sloshing the contents of one of his small glasses she was holding onto the sleeve of an oversized shirt she must have changed into.

"Jesus! When did you get here?"

"24 seconds ago."

"How was your meeting with the Dean?"

"I have been cleared of the assault charge, and you will not be required to give any further report."

"Good. Did she say anything about…"

"Yes, but there is no cause for alarm. Where did you acquire all of this?"

"Okay… um… Well, the chocolate syrup I bought at that tiny store next to the dorms, and literally everything else I found under Gaila's bed. Good thing I checked there first, too, this is enough for a lifetime."

"Alcohol is prohibited in the student building."

She raised her brows, and placed her glass on the tabletop, as she came forward to set her hands on his knees, bending into him.

"If we're going by the book now, Spock, I might as well go home. Is that what you want?"

Her proximity allowed him to smell a sweetness in her breath that lead him to believe she had already been drinking the contents of one of the seven bottles near him. Her shirt was very large, the neck of it falling enough to reveal that she was not wearing anything under it, and his breath hitched at the sight of her smooth skin. He reached to pull her into his lap, but she jumped away, and skipped to fall on her stomach on his couch. He picked up the glass she had left, looking down into it as he spoke.

"You know that it is not. What is in this?"

"Drink it." Her voice was muffled with her face shoved into a pillow, and a wave of endearment made his lips twitch.

"That was not an answer." He said, but drained the glass, nonetheless. It was overly sugared, and plainly alcoholic, but the burn of it had been comparatively slight. It was extremely reminiscent of something. She must have heard him set it down, as she turned over onto her back to view his expression, or lack thereof.

"How was it?"

"It… had a rather nostalgic effect."

"Really? Why?"

"It smelled very similar to the chocolate milk my maternal grandmother nearly gave me when I was a boy on my first visit to Earth. She had been unaware that Vulcans are lactose intolerant, accidental intoxication notwithstanding."

"You didn't drink it did you? How old were you?"

"My mother took it from me, and I was four standard years old."

"Well, this is Kahlua, vodka, and that chocolate syrup. It's called a Mudslide. Did you like it?"

"It was not entirely unpleasant."

"I guess that's as good as it's going to get. Now, come sit with me, I want to hear about baby Spock."

He spent a great while recalling his brief, and rare trips to his mother's planet as they sat together in his living room, her questions becoming more detailed one after the other. His cheeks had heated within five minutes of drinking the contents of the glass, but he had not experienced any other notable side effects, and his body temperature had stabilized soon after. She had dragged the blanket from his bed during his tale of a trip to the Seattle zoo when he was a pre-teen, and had, at some point, found themselves under it, re-watching the documentary he started earlier in the day, her fingers tickling down his arm draped over her. When it was over, he demonstrated how to play a version of chess she did not know, and he was gratified by her laughter at how badly she executed his illustration of it. She made them a late lunch, which they had eaten on the floor in front of his television playing yet another silly show she liked, and after they had washed their dishes, he showed her what he was allowed to of the _Enterprise_ under construction, as she taught him words for the equipment in languages he did not speak. She asked him to tell her more of his meeting with Dean Scott, teeming with cautious excitement before he had asked her to describe what had occurred between her and Cadet Jameson, listening with intense irritation. She had been glad to hear of the boys departure from the Academy, and distracted him from his anger by teaching him how to make a number of things with the bottles she brought, some with chocolate in them, some without, until he noticed her movements becoming uncoordinated, and advised her to stop. She had not, of course, and he felt her dizziness, as he carried her to his bed, from her hands under the cotton shirt he had changed into. He laid down next to her while he heard her breathing slow to synchronize with his own, and awoke an hour later to darkness. He turned onto his side to find her eyes closed, but a smile on her face.

"Nyota?"

"I'm awake. I'm not sure if I went to sleep at all, but I feel better. Are you ready?"

"For what?"

"For tonight. For the… the thing you wanted to show me."

"In a moment." He pulled her to his chest again, but she wrapped her leg around his waist, and rolled on top of him, looking down through the curtain of her hair.

"Are you nervous?"

"In a way, I suppose I am. You are an exceptionally resilient woman, but this is a complication that will be entirely alien to you."

"I'll be fine, Spock."

"'Fine' has—"

"No, sir, you are far too sober. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"Stay here."

She climbed out of the bed with a kiss to his forehead, and he sat up with her, squinting a bit at the harsh light through the door, while he dropped his feet off the bed. He ordered the lights in the bedroom on ten percent in a reddish spectrum that his eyes were made for, as he went to sit in front of his firepot to replace the candle in it. He went back through the memories he had selected to show her, and his comfort, as she had guessed, drained from him. They were not especially graphic, considering the images would more than likely be rather blurry outside of her psi points, but the emotions in them, the stifling heat of his blood, would flow through her, clear and strong. He wondered if he had made the right choice in his decision to show them to her, if he should have first consulted with someone, as he was uncertain the effect it would have on them both. He could not think of anyone other than his mother who he could ask this advice, and he would not wish for her to hide it from her husband, who would be less than accepting, to be sure. He could not force himself to say these things in words. It would be insufficient for true understanding if he were to call it merely a mating drive, in any case, but he could not push the signs aside any longer. Even when his meditation was somewhat adequate, the calm he felt afterward was frustratingly short lived. His behavior pointed to no other affliction he could place, but it had come upon him very suddenly in his first experience, and he was bonded then, however distantly. Anxiety welled up in him, but he tramped down on it, listening to her footsteps through the door, which slid open to reveal her with the small cup she had before, filled again to the brim. She crossed to seat herself to his opposite, fragrant smoke curling in the air between them, and handed him the glass. It smelled almost the same as what he had had previously, so he tipped it back, and swallowed it. There was a sludge at the bottom so sweet, it pulled a grimace from him, and a bright laugh from her.

"This was not what you gave me before."

"It was, just with triple the chocolate. You'll feel that pretty quick, I bet."

"I imagine so." He set the cup down, and lifted the lid on the pot to allow the smoke to settle over them again. She started up to leave, but he held a hand out to stop her, and she folded herself back down.

"Are you sure? I can find something to do if I'm going to distract you."

"Meditation is beneficial prior to scheduled telepathic contact, and as you will be participating, I believe it… will help you… prepare for it." His metabolism was much higher than a human man. Dizziness had hit him like a hoverbus, and he shut his eyes against it. He heard her stifle a giggle, as he ordered the lights out.

"If you say so. What should I do?"

"Close your eyes." He looked to see that she had, a soft smile still on her face. "Breathe."

"I'm always breathing."

"Hush. Breathe." She did, and her hands dropped in her lap. "Again." She did, her shoulders falling an inch. "Again." She did, her cheeks relaxing to contentment, and he had never seen anything so close to perfection. His head was spinning with it. Their paths crossing had been nothing but a chance, a similar interest, and yet he had been made for her. Every characteristic, every genetic altercation, his Vulcan mind, his human heart, everything _decided_ for her. She cracked an eye open when he stopped talking, that little grin spreading across her lips again.

"How am I doing?"

"You... are so beautiful."

He could not help but to have said it, her expression changing to something like sadness when she looked fully at him, and he waved his hand at her to close her eyes again. After a moment, she did, and they simply breathed together under the light of the candle flickering in the middle of it. He watched her until her chest was barely moving at all, while his heart constricted with a feeling he still could not name, but that was slowly becoming familiar to him. He wondered at the effect of the drink he had had. He was being illogically sentimental. He did feel severely unbalanced, but not uncomfortable, and he genuinely felt as though logic did not matter. As though he could be, without such weighted restriction, himself. He was not even entirely certain _who_ he was, but Vulcan. One of billions of a species. Through her, he was learning the language of simply _being._ His earlier anxiety was gone, and he wanted nothing more than to blend his mind into hers like the smoke that pulled at him.

"Nyota." She opened her eyes, and blinked at him, child-like in sleepiness, as he reached both hands out to her, but pulled them back before she could touch them. It still took an effort to articulate his speech, that strange lightheadedness not yet faded. "What I am to show you is called _pon farr._ It occurs in Vulcan men once every seven years beginning in adulthood, and is the reason why we are bonded in our childhood. I am 28 years old, and I am quite sure that… my recent… behavior is due to this. You must know of this if you wish to be… with me. Are you certain you still wish to be?"

"More than anything."

"You will experience many of the symptoms you will see in myself, and the pain of them may cause you to jerk away. You must be still. They are superficial, but such a sudden break in mental contact could cause memory loss."

"I wont. Just do it."

He could not deny her. He turned his palms to hover above her own, as he took a breath in, looking to her again for permission. She nodded. He let it out, pressed his fingers to hers…

And was lost.

His lungs tightened, his brows pulled together, his heart pounded, as his open mind brushed hers, feeling her amazement at the unprecedentedly clear image of himself, younger, behind her eyes. Without her, he would die. He had never been so sure of anything.

He loved her.


	12. Chapter 12

_He was forced awake that morning to the sound of someone shouting, and running past his door. His pelvis was throbbing, his head pounding while he blinked at the unusual amount of sunlight streaming through the thin curtain on his window, and with some confusion, he reached to his desk to tap his PADD for the time, which was an equally strange need. When it chimed to life, he sat up so quickly, he had to catch himself on the bed frame to keep from tumbling over it, and almost winced at the pain in his back. He had only 38 minutes before his first class was meant to begin. He would either have to skip his meditation, or his breakfast, but considering his unsteady rise, and a peculiar state of nausea, he decided the latter would perhaps be best._

 _With his hand still resting where it had fallen to balance himself, he rose from the bed, and groaned at the intense soreness that shot across his body with the movement. He felt his breath stinging in his chest, as he typed in a water from his mini replicator, and turned to adjust his temperature control by nearly five degrees. He was exceptionally hot. He bent to light the candle in his firepot, and with more than a little difficulty, attempted to straighten again when the imposing noise of his door chime caused him to bump the back of his head into a lowly mounted bookshelf above his mat, sending last semesters' xenolimnology textbook to slam onto his aching back before hitting the floor. His dorm room was very small, a fact for which he had never given much thought, but the space was suddenly beginning to make him feel alarmingly claustrophobic. He was in the midst of calculating whether or not it was worth leaning over a second time to pick up the book, his need for tidy order ever present even in his exhaustion, when the door rang again._

" _Computer: identify."_

" _Cadet Makita Retak."_

 _A quiet Bajoran woman that had developed a 'crush', as it had been called, on him sometime in their second year. He contemplated ignoring her, given his undress, but she had been sufficiently professional both before and after he had intimated his disinterest, so he ordered her image on screen. As soon as she appeared, he wished he had placed her on audio only. He was embarrassingly aroused by the tightness of her cadets dress, and felt his face flush, as he clenched his jaw, and swallowed the lump in his throat. Perhaps he was the unprofessional one of the two._

" _How may I assist you, Cadet Retak?"_

" _You are still allowed to call me Makita. Are you feeling unwell?"_

" _No."_

 _He was uncertain if this was true. Her voice and figure were decidedly female, and he was painfully aware of how ridiculously revealing her genders uniform in StarFleet was. He had thought them impractical and degrading before, and yet now his breath was growing harsh with the sheer amount of skin he could see out of it. He felt a trickle of anxiety in his spine._

" _I do not mean to imply familiarity where it is not due, but it is unlike you to leave your comm unanswered, which is why I ask. I came to see if you would be available when classes end for the day. We are holding a study group in the library, and you have always been a great help."_

" _At this moment, I am unsure."_

" _I see. If you find yourself available, this is where we will be. But Spock…"_

 _He held his expression tight. He needed her to leave. His headache was worse, his hands were shaking, and he felt suffocated in immense heat. He wanted her in his room. In his bed. In his teeth. He took a step forward toward the screen._

" _Yes?"_

" _I do not need to be a creature of telepathy to recognize that you are out of balance. As your friend, do not join us this evening. I believe your spirit needs rest. Goodbye, Spock."_

 _He watched the holoscreen disappear the moment she left its view before sitting back into his desk chair behind him, and turned to grab the water glass he had left in the replicator, watching it ripple with the shuddering in his arm. He had not previously been particularly attracted to this cadet, though she was, were he speaking in abstract, particularly attractive. Her legs were on the edge of unproportionally long, as was normal for her species, and he wondered what the markings of his fingers along them would look like if he held them to bruising—_

 _The glass in his hand shattered on the floor near his feet. He pushed his chair back from it, and stared a moment at the mess he had been making that morning. That thought had been uncharacteristically… disrespectful of him._

 _What was this pain in his head?_

 _He closed his eyes, and searched along the tethered connections in his mind. His mother was asleep. His father was awake, but he was not certain where. T'Pring was—_

 _Blinding pain splintered behind his eyelids, and the heat of his blood flared in his veins. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him when he plucked at the string that bonded them, as he came to a realization he had been blocking since his most recent birthday. Perhaps his doctors had been incorrect. They were under the assumption that his human DNA would spare him from this, but this had not spared him from his schooling on the subject, and his recent train of thought only served to strengthen what he had learned. For the first time in a very long time, he felt as though he truly needed his father. It was possible he could arrange for him to return to Vulcan to validate his marriage. Was that what his bondmate wanted? Was that what he wanted? He looked to his comm unit, which was indeed blinking with something missed, but did not believe he had the will to pick it up. He had not spoken to Sarek in four years, and could not imagine he would be expected, let alone welcome._

 _Avoiding the glass, and ignoring the ache, he stood to sit again in front of his asenoi in an attempt to slow his heart rate. He could not go to a medical center on this planet. There would be no treatment or accurate diagnosis they could give him, and he was certain there was no text on the matter for them to correct this. His only other option was an illogically barbaric fight, and the officers at his court martial hearing would be even less understanding were he to murder one of his peers for reasons he was forbidden to explain to them. His father would more than likely state that this would not have been a concern had he merely remained on Vulcan, as was his duty, and he did not have the patience to hear this time and again. Even under Vulcans warmest days, he had never been so exceedingly hot, and just the thought of T'Pring's name had him shifting on his mat. He had no choice._

 _After a moments consideration, he sent his father his anxiety, his strange biological state, as well as a vague impression of his theory on why it was present, and within 30 seconds he heard his comm buzzing on his desk, as the link to him opened wider than it had since his departure to Earth. He made no move to answer it, he knew who it was, and he would empathize with his unwillingness to speak on it, but when it had stopped, his video monitor blinked with an incoming hail from Vulcan. He felt his anxiety turn to clear panic when his father sent him reassurance rather than disappointment at his emotionalism, but still did not order the video open. He was frozen. A calm that was not his own flooded his senses, and it dissipated slightly, as disconnected words formed along his familial bond._

 _Bondmate_

 _Distance_

 _Pain_

 _Contact_

 _His distance from T'Pring was causing his pain. He needed for him to contact her. He pushed his comprehension, and centered his breathing. He was dizzy, trembling still, and absolutely on fire, but opened the link between them, and reached for her as gently as he could over his discomfort. He felt her consciousness, and then…_

 _Nothing._

 _Silence._

 _He sent his confusion to his father, who, for a fraction of a second, felt it also. He tried again to pull the link through the roaring pain in his head when he sensed it. The nothingness he felt was not nothingness at all. It was indifference._

 _He felt the link slam shut from 16 light years away, as his vision blurred, and faded._

…

 _He was vaguely aware of a sensation that he was moving. Or rather, being moved. Hyposprays pressed into his neck while he drifted, but they were ineffective against the unbearable pain, and choking heat that were beginning to register in his mind. He wished they had stayed out of focus._

" _What happened?"_

" _His linguistics professor said he didn't show up to class."_

 _Captain Pike. He did not remember seeing him that day. Why did he hurt so much? Why was it so hot wherever they were taking him?_

" _That… doesn't make sense."_

" _That's what I said. The Vulcan Ambassador called the Dean to say he_ felt _him pass out less than ten minutes after his professor sent me a message. I found him in his room like this."_

 _They had stopped moving. He could feel a set of hands cutting off his shirt to allow the bio bed to more accurately read his vital signs, when a scent washed over him that burnt his lungs, and scorched in his brain like a white hot brand. He caught a slender wrist in his hand, as he sensed all other sound in the room hush with the exception of an odd vibration ripping through his chest._

" _Cadet. It's alright. We're going to help you."_

 _A woman. He almost had not understood what she had said in Standard. He opened his eyes, only to be bombarded with florescent light, and a blue face just inches from his own. He saw her suck in a breath when his fingers tightened around her arm, that vibration rising higher and louder in his dry throat. Some voice was screaming at him to pin her down._

" _Spock, let her go."_

 _His eyes snapped over to meet Captain Pike's whose own were wide with shock, but as soon as they did, he felt the mild sting of another hypospray at his neck. His eyelids fluttered, the noise in his chest quieted, and his arm dropped limp to the bed. The last words he heard sounded almost as though he were hearing them from underwater._

" _That's it. I'm calling the Embassy."_

…

" _What is his current age, Captain?"_

" _He's 21."_

" _How long has he been experiencing these symptoms?"_

" _He was in class last night, so I can only guess a couple hours."_

" _Is he currently bonded?"_

" _Is he... What? What's wrong with him?"_

" _I am not at liberty to say."_

" _Alright then, what can we_ do _for him?"_

" _Remove all female employees from his vicinity, and remain at a distance until he is transported."_

" _Sir, please, this is my boy. Is he going to be—"_

 _..._

 _He did not open his eyes, but could tell that the room he was in was far darker than the previous one, yet he did not recall exactly how he had arrived there. His limbs were weak with constant shaking, and he was dismayed to find that his body temperature was still excruciatingly high. Every nerve ending across his skin felt as though it were melting from the inside, and he was growing dizzy with hyperventilation. He heard a stranger speaking in Vulcan beyond what he imagined was an open door._

" _A sedative will be required if he is to live, but it will be difficult to administer a safe dosage, given the complexity of his genetics. Is he not bonded?"_

" _She claims an illness."_

 _He recognized his father's voice, a strange ring to it that suggested he was speaking through a subspace call, and he relaxed into the bed slightly, as he felt himself safe enough to blink his eyes open to candle flame. A familiar smoke clouded the air, and he tried to focus on its ability to calm him, while his dulled senses took in his surroundings. He seemed to be in a state room, sturdy, Vulcan furniture, and paintings of his birthplace scattered about being his only indication of this. A hologram of the mountains he spent so much time in as a child were casting a dim, orange glow across the bed, and it was almost a comfort over the pulsing ache in his pelvis._

" _There is no other he can mate with?"_

" _No."_

" _Then you were, indeed, correct to contact a healer. I will attempt to prevent any further degradation of his logic, though in the state he was brought before me, I warn you it may not prove adequate. I will contact you if anything further is needed."_

" _May not prove adequate? What are you saying?"_

 _His mother. As unable to remain calm as she had ever been any other time he had laid injured in some way. He heard the tell tale beep of an ended transmission before her question was answered, and was irritated at his people's consistent dismissal of her when the shadow of a robed, Vulcan male appeared in the archway. He felt that strange rumbling bubbling up through his chest again, as he came to stand at the edge of his bed._

" _You are in the middle stages of plak'tow. I will assess your bond."_

 _His hand came up to his face, and he turned away from him. He did not believe he had the strength for that pain again. If T'Pring would rather see him dead than fulfill her duty to him for no other reason than his mixed race, then perhaps she would._

" _No."_

" _I comprehend your discomfort, Spokh. I have experienced it as many times as you have had standard years of life. In my time as a healer, I have never seen a Vulcan man successfully break his fever with meditation alone. I will assess your bond."_

" _No."_

 _He went to sit up, but found he could not. There was a restraint around his wrists, over his legs, and across his chest. His breathing was growing rapid, discomfort was again panic, he grasped at his mother's fear, his father's understanding, his blood boiling and reeling with his mind, as papery fingers touched the side of his face turned away. He felt his soul blend inside and out with a stranger. He felt himself yell, but did not hear it. He felt his back bow off the bed as far as it could go when he pushed and pulled at the string of his bond to—_

She ripped her hands away from him, sweaty, and gasping. She pressed the heel of her palms into the side of her head, the pain, and overwhelming sensation of not only him, but some random man through him also not yet gone. She was dying. He was dying. He hadn't even known it then, but she felt it from him. He was staring at her, his eyes wide and glassy, but didn't move to touch her again, and with the candle that had burned bright between them burned out, she could barely see him at all. She looked around her, and found his window, his bed, his bathroom door, her water glass intact on the nightstand, the smell of the room so different than the one she was just in. She took a breath, and then another, as she came back to herself, but his shaking, strangled voice, was still ringing in her ears. She wanted calm Spock. The balanced, even, serene professor with a velvet voice she could never live without again.

"Nyota… Do you know where we are?"

"In your apartment." Her own voice was barely a whisper, but she felt significantly better to find his as emotionless as she knew it, if not with a trace of worry.

"What is your most recent memory?"

"We… were sleeping… and then... we were drinking. I've been here all day."

He nodded, but the tightness in his eyes didn't relax. He reached his hand out for her, and after a moment she took it, feeling hesitance, uncertainty radiating from him.

"Are you well?"

"How long were you there?"

He blinked, his eyebrows twitching downward before smoothing again.

"How long was I where?"

"At the Embassy."

"I was there for three days."

"What did they do? What did you need?"

"Hormone replacements, and a significant amount of mental assistance."

"And you think this is happening again?"

"Yes. The strength of the symptoms do not lessen over time, and they are not always exactly the same, but I believe it will occur again soon."

"And if… T'Pring… had been there? The first time?"

He hesitated, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand for nearly a full minute before he looked down at it, and stopped. She wondered what other things he had been taught looked foolish, or unbecoming, but still found himself doing sometimes until he noticed he had been.

"Then so, our marriage would have been consummated, and validated, as is traditional, without the need for outside intervention."

"But it wasn't. She wasn't there."

"No."

"And now that you aren't… with her... What will you do?"

"That is dependent on you."

"What do you mean?"

"It is not easy to explain. My mind will see you as my bondmate, and given that we already have such an unusually strong telepathic attachment, it will be far more difficult for me now to survive this without irreparable psionic damage, if I do at all. I will not be the person you know when this time comes."

"How will I know how to help you? I can't let you just die."

"Nyota, I am meaning to say that I would prefer this outcome than for you to believe that you have no other choice but to stay with me."

She squeezed his hand, her eyes stinging, and watering. Why couldn't he just _belong_ somewhere? Here, and there, and everywhere? The only time in his adult life that he truly couldn't take care of himself, and she understood why he was so scared. He thought his own father wouldn't welcome a life or death call from him. He knew his bondmate didn't even want him from the beginning. His mother wanted nothing more than to just _be_ with him, but they blew her off left and right, and what comfort could she really give him in something so wholly Vulcan anyway? She would never see him so alone again. He would never be scared to die, burning again because _she_ would be with him if he wanted her to be.

He belonged with _her._

"Do not be sad for me. It is simply an evolutionary way of keeping an entire species from becoming extinct. It is painful, but in a way it is logical to—"

She sprang into his lap, pressing kisses to his neck, as she wrapped her arms tight around it. She felt his hands suspended for a moment, the suddenness of her movement a bit of a shock to him, before he folded them gingerly across her hip. His concern was fading, but for some reason still there. She wanted it gone.

"I'm so sorry. You could've died. You would have, and that ice block bitch would've let you, and I won't do that. I won't do that."

"Nyota, I am gratified to hear this, but I—"

"Then why do you still feel so—"

"I do not wish for you to be afraid of me."

She picked her head up to look at him. She didn't think she was. What he had shown her was _scary_ , but she wasn't scared of _him._ If anything, she was only scared because he was, hurting because he was. She might be more than a bit apprehensive about how secretive this whole thing has been, but she couldn't imagine a species as secluded as Vulcan being anything but.

"I'm not, Spock. It was just… different."

"Different?"

"Yeah just… I've never seen you like you've been recently. I don't mean to… insult you, or whatever, but you've been so much more expressive than you usually are. I'm just worried that now that we know why, that it'll go away when it's all over. The way you feel about me."

"It will not."

"Are you just saying that because you're still drunk? Are you still drunk?"

"No. I am in love with you." Her breath stopped. Her heart stopped, and skipped over. A sickening rush of nervousness stabbed her in the stomach, as he pulled his hand away from hers to set his finger against her temple. "What was that?"

"Don't say that."

"You do not believe me."

"Vulcans don't just date. You said so."

"Not without a purpose. I am going to marry you the moment you graduate from this academy."

"Why? Why me? It doesn't make sense. I'm just another boring, human girl who can… speak a bunch of languages, I just don't… I don't understand how you came to the conclusion that this is logical for you."

"I did not."

"But—"

"Nyota, you are not _just_ anything. I do not need anything else, but you. I will not always be so outwardly expressive. I am not entirely certain what is happening to me now, but you must know that this will remain true forever. Someday soon, I will call you my wife."

"Spock that's… I mean… Can a human even marry a Vulcan in the same way?"

"My mother is a human woman."

"Right, but is it the same as it would be between two Vulcans?"

"As far as I have been told, yes, it is remarkably similar. A meld performed by a healer is required to form a full bond, but a meld performed by myself will be sufficient for engagement, to use a human term. It is a crucial act in the final stages of _pon farr."_

"Will we be able to hear each other all the time then?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Well that might be… kind of…"

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. It wasn't like there was anything she had to hide from him, per say, but she didn't particularly want him to know some of the abhorrently inappropriate thoughts she had had of him over the years. She smiled at herself for a few of the ones she was thinking of less than a week ago, feeling silly now for how hard she had tried to push them out of her mind then. Her dreams had absolutely nothing on reality, and she doubted his own were anything like them.

"I am uncertain as to your emotional response."

"I just… You're going to see some weird stuff in there, is all. I've been thinking about you a lot longer than you probably think I have been."

"I assure you the outline of my own thoughts are not far from yours."

"How do you know?"

"I have seen them. Things such as this." His finger was still pressed to her face, and she saw a picture of the way his ear twitched when he heard something from another room that made her stomach dance. "And this." A blurred image of the color of his skin. "And this." Clear as day, the way she felt about him when she fell asleep before her trip to the medical center.

She fisted her hand in his shirt, pulling his lips down to her, and crushed herself to him. His fingers tangled in her hair, as he kissed, and kissed, and kissed her. When he finally pulled them both to standing, she heard his firepot fall onto its side, and she almost looked to see if it had broken, or if the wax from the candle had cooled, or if it was all over the place, but had already forgotten by the time he pressed a hot hand under her thigh to lift her around his waist without ever pulling his mouth off of hers.

Dropping her on the bed, he pushed her legs apart, and sat up between them to pull his shirt off, but hadn't been back down to her long before she was shoving against his shoulder, and rolling him onto his back. He tilted his head for her while she mouthed down his throat, scraping her teeth along the smooth skin of his collarbone, and lower until he was shifting on the bed below her. He raised his hips for her to tug his pants off, his hand twisting in the sheets, as she peppered kisses across his flat stomach. She listened to him hiss, listened to his hair drag on the pillow, and could even see his heart beating in his side when she licked a long line up, and wrapped her lips around the length of him. She heard a vibration she knew well enough, and looked up to see him squeeze his eyes shut, and put a hand over his mouth, the back of his fingers on the other running down her cheek. He gasped, and sat up, his back arching off the bed, as he hauled her up over him, when she turned her head to catch his middle finger in her teeth. Grabbing her shirt by the collar, he tore it right down the middle, and lowered her onto him while his head lolled to the side. He took her at a brutal pace, her hands grasping at his hair, gripping his fingers, anything, until his arms tightened around her, his breath stuttering and catching when she whined against his mouth, and collapsed on top of him.

They stayed pressed together for a while before he rolled them onto their side, and set his forehead to hers. She pushed herself up the pillows to hold him to her chest, carding her fingers through his hair, and feeling his eyelashes flutter on her skin, as her heart soared for him.

"I love you, Spock. I really do."

"I believe… I am aware."

He sighed into her neck, but didn't say anything else, and he didn't have to. She could feel it in bright bursts from his fingertips whispering up the side of her leg, and was sure she could have lived in that moment for the rest of her life. She wasn't afraid of him. She wouldn't leave him alone. She would tell him everyday that no one else would ever have her if it would mend the mindset that no one wanted to have _him_. She slept warm, and safe, and steady next to him, her dreams a mix of orange and red, dust and heat.


End file.
